The Shape Of Things To Come
by purehalo
Summary: Post AHBL. While investigating missing hikers, events take a turn for the worst forcing both brothers to deal with Dean's deal and the flowing sands of time.
1. Chapter 1

Hello friends! I hope you're all well and that many of you, like me, are on countdown to the Chicago Con! If so i'll be seeing you there x

Just a little story i wanted to share, post AHBL , full of angst, intrigue (i hope) and some beat up boys. Enjoy xxx

Disclaimer: Still not mine (until the autograph session at Chicago Con where Jensen and Jared will unknowingly sign a paper thats really a contract to state they are mine)

My eternal thanks to Allison, the light in my dark xxxx I tweaked this after she checked it so all mistakes are my own and you can't have them.

Heather, thank you for answering all my questions, my gift to you is within the pages soon to be posted xxx

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_Well its late in the hour and a few more grains of sand will fall._

_On the colourful flowers grown upon the dust and moss._

_Now I feel the worst is near,_

_I hold them close and count their years._

_And pray a ray of light appears_

_To shine down on us here._

_-Chris Cornell_

At first there was a shiver, followed by a deep throated moan that pulled at Dean's heart and mocked his physical disabilities. The moan was followed by another shiver, more violent in nature, almost as though Sam's body had had enough and was now trying to disengage itself from the suffering its inhabitant was enduring. A shiver, a spasm, then an all out convulsion.

Dean tried to drag his body the short distance across the mud and rocks at the bottom of the hole to his brother, clawing his way toward the shaking, moaning younger man. Sam's eyes were open and focused on his brother, silently making a desperate plea for Dean to make it better, to take the pain away by holding him until the horror of the nightmare faded into the distance and the images retreated into nothing but a vague memory of something evil. _Make it stop Dean, please_.

Dean ignored the stones as they cut into his palms, ignored the pull on his already battered body and ignored the thought that he should be feeling pain in the leg that dragged behind him as he made his way to his brother. Dean counted in his head, marking off the seconds as the seizure progressed. It was nearing a minute. He was nearing panic. He was nearing Sam.

"I'm here Sammy, its gonna be alright. I'm here." He called breathlessly, unsure if his reassurances were heard.

Dean was finally close enough to lay a bloodied hand on Sam's shoulder. The shaking was beginning to subside and he watched helplessly as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head . One second his body was so full of vibration and energy; the next it became still and almost….no! Don't think that word. Not again. Not again.

"Sam? SAMMY?!" Dean pulled himself further forward and used all his strength to lift Sam's shoulders. He shimmied beneath the younger man, laying Sam's head in his lap and running a hand through the unconscious man's hair.

The rain began to fall again, coating them both in its wet embrace. Running in the rivulets already made by the previous downpour, the hole was becoming waterlogged and soon would begin to fill. Yet all of this was lost on Dean as he rocked his brother back and forth, the pain in his ribs and back ignored.

Dean concentrated on his movements, rocking back and forth, making it ok, humming a long forgotten song. He allowed his mind to drift away from the situation and ignore the threat that still loomed in the woods surrounding them.

The rain fell from high above, set free by the parental arms of the clouds to freefall toward the land that held the promise of a new life, of a new adventure. Falling past the hills and the trees of the woodland toward a small clearing amongst the lavish pines , the rain plummeted through the air toward the two men who lay battered and bleeding at the bottom of a deep grave.

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_Three days previous…_

"Do you have to eat like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like _that,_ everything piled in on top of everything else. Its a wonder you know what bacon and eggs taste like on their own."

Dean smiled a full and appreciative open mouthed smile. Sam averted his eyes before the sight put him off his own breakfast.

"So come on Scully, why is it we're here in this nature invested hell hole for?"

"Firstly, I've explained to you I am NOT Scully. Secondly this isn't a hell hole. Its one of the most beautiful woodland areas in America."

Dean raised his eyes and held his fork aloft, egg dripping from the edge making a lazy trail toward his fingers.

"Or so it says on the sign behind you" Sam sniggered and Dean smiled.

"Dude you know I hate camping."

"This isn't camping. We're staying in a motel."

"Yeah well, just so you know I intend to stay in that motel each night we're here so don't get any funny ideas."

"What have you got against nature Dean?"

"Firstly, wendigo's and them trying to kill me. Secondly, rivers and being submerged in them."

Sam chewed his bottom lip as he tried to think of a decent argument. He fell short and attacked his eggs instead.

Dean pulled the local paper toward him and read while he ate. Six people had gone missing over the past two years, always in pairs and always hiking in the same part of the forest during the same time of year. The latest victims were a married couple in their forties who'd come out from the city to spend a week with nature and enjoy the beautiful scenery of the forest. They'd walked into the wood on a Monday, only to be carried out in body bags a week later. The husband had been an executive of a high-powered law firm, so when the local authorities had said they'd searched and found no trace of the couple, extra help had been sent in by the law partners. The new search party had been told, in no uncertain terms, to check again and make damn sure they found something.

And find something they did.

Dean read the front page. In the week prior to Dean and Sam's arrival, a grave site had been discovered containing the body of the lawyer's wife. The grave was deep and located in a small clearing, while the husband's body had been found a mile from the site. The details were sketchy as to how he died but the newspaper article mentioned a head injury as the possible cause.

According to the paper, authorities were speculating that the husband had deliberately taken his wife out there to kill her but that she must have fought back, injuring the man who died before he made it back to town.

Sam put on his geek boy research outfit and uncovered that three of the other 'missing' people had actually been found in a grave in that same area but that the local police had kept that information under wraps, not wanting to cause a panic at the height of the tourist season. Each time a body was found the police had pulled it out and refilled the hole. Yet the grave would always reappear and was always a little deeper than before.

Only the lawyer's body had ever been found outside of the grave.

"I'm sure the other bodies are out there somewhere Dean" Sam said around a mouthful of egg.

"We need to figure out what we're dealing with before we try to find the other bodies."

"You just don't want to go out into the woods today."

Dean stared at Sam as he silently counted the seconds for the penny to drop. It wasn't so much a penny dropping as a red tinge rising from Sam's neck to his face.

"Am I gonna be sure of a big surprise? Am I Sammy?"

"Shut up."

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Sam awoke a little before dawn, their 'research' the night before consisted of Dean downing at least three quarters of a bottle of whiskey in shots and talking to the local women folk. Even though his brother didn't usually drink on the job, Sam had kept quiet and allowed him to use his drunk charm to weasel out a few more 'well people say..' stories. It had been strange watching Dean throughout the night. Rarely had Sam seen his brother so drunk while working a case. But then, rarely did Dean have only a year to live.

Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair and made his way into the small bathroom, the room's décor in the main room screamed of nature, green carpet with green walls covered with illustrated trees. The bathroom though was in stark contrast to the rest of the room with its metallic silver sink and bath, brown walls, and Dean's favourite of all, a pink toilet. When Sam had first walked into the managers office to book the room he'd frowned at the elderly man's snigger as he handed him the room key.

"Only room left there young fella, sorry."

"No need to apologize sir."

The man sniggered again and shuffled his arthritic body away from Sam towards a small couch in the back room.

"Sorry again" he called over his shoulder as another snigger escaped his lips shaking his frail frame.

Sam could just imagine the old man laughing out loud when he'd heard Dean's shout of 'Barbie toilet just for Sammy!'.

Sam braced his hands against the metallic sink and gazed at the man in the mirror . The reflection didn't seem his own. The eyes looking back at him didn't seem as innocent as they once where. Gone was the wild-eyed belief that big brothers could make everything right, and that no matter what happened, if you had enough faith you'd find a way through. How was he going to find a way through this if he lost his brother? How was he going to save Dean? Sam had flung himself into research the day the deal had been made. Three months had passed and still he had found nothing to save Dean. No answers, no clause. Only pitiful looks from the people whose help he'd enlisted. The only person who held onto the belief that there was a way out had been Bobby. He adamantly refused to give up even when his contacts told him there was no way to change the terms of the deal. Dean had begun to get frustrated with the amount of time Sam and Bobby were spending on this 'thing' (as he called it) so he had convinced Bobby that it was time to go their separate ways while they continued to hunt the evil that existed and the evil that escaped.

Unbeknown to Dean, Bobby and Sam had made a pact to speak every week, either on the phone or preferably in person to share anything they had come across regarding deals with demons and the escape thereof. And unbeknown to Sam, it was also a good way for Bobby to keep an eye on his and Dean's well being. Since John's death the older hunter felt extra responsibility for the boys. So every week since all hell tried to break loose, he made a point to speak to Sam.

Sam hated the fact they had to keep it quiet, but it seemed as if any time someone tried to help his brother, Dean would shut down or attack like a wild animal cornered by death.

Sam smiled sadly. He guessed that was as good a description of his brother as any.

The young hunter turned away from the mirror and its despondent reflection of his tortured soul and turned the shower on full blast. Figuring Dean would be sleeping in a little later than usual, he decided to use all of the hot water.

Dean's first thought as the headache behind his eyes forced him awake, was that whiskey should really come with a warning and a mandatory cut-off point. His second thought was _where could he get some more._

He knew he was heading down a road that John travelled when they were young; a road that enticed many travellers with its promise of freedom, only to wind and meander its way to nothingness, leaving the weary follower alone in the dark.

But it was the oblivion that came with the drink that Dean sought; the escape from his decision, the obliteration of the memory of his choices. He would do it again in a heartbeat, but it didn't mean he wasn't scared. The closer he came to his deadline the more panicked Dean was becoming. It had sounded like such a long time. Not as long as he was hoping, but still, it was a year. A whole year. The very next day though? It was less than a year. It had taken 24 hours for that thought to step up into his brain and take up residence. His year was dwindling and there was nothing he could do but allow oblivion to take over every once in a while. He knew Sam was worried about the drinking, yet he also knew his brother understood and recognised the need for Dean to escape. He doubted that he'd be allowed this luxury for very much longer though. The fact Sam had manhandled him out of the bar after he'd tripped and landed in a heap at the owners feet was testament to the fact that soon Sam was going to end the party.

Sasquatch, the killjoy of all things fun.

The headache behind his eyes stretched its arms and embraced his brain as he became more aware of his surroundings. A crack of his eyes and the blinding laser of the early morning light through the thin curtains almost rendered him permanently blind. He quickly shut them again until the pain subsided.

Eventually he chanced opening his eyes again. He knew what was laid out on the table next to him before he spotted the objects.

A glass of water. Two aspirin. And he'd bet his pert and toned ass that the trash can was on the floor by his bed.

Way to go Sammy.

Sam turned off the water and stood in the warmth of the steam from the shower for a few moments. There was some hot water left, some being not much. That would teach the jerk to get so drunk he'd started calling everyone flower, including the men, which was the point that Sam pulled him from the bar and brought him staggering back to the motel.

A cold shower would get his brother back in the game. Of course Sam wasn't going to mention that there was no hot water. He was sure his brother would find out the hard way.

As he dried himself off the faint noise of retching came from the main room. Sam shook his head and wiped his hand across the mirror. The eyes staring back at him seemed more awake, but deeply haunted. Time was running out. He didn't know if he could do this alone. He didn't want to find out. He wouldn't find out. Of that he was going to make damn sure.

"You ok in there Sparky?" Sam called as he opened the bathroom door, releasing the warm steam into the small green room.

Dean looked up slowly, gave him the finger, and continued to throw up what little food he'd consumed the day before. Sam scrunched up his face and opened a window, allowing a cool breeze to blow through the room and eject the smell of the vomit from the trash can Dean had left to rock precariously on its edge as he collapsed back down onto the bed.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Time to get up, get showered, get going."

"Get going where?" Dean kept his arm over his eyes, hoping beyond hope that the spinning room would stop and the marching band beside his head would get the damn hint and leave.

"Coroners office remember? That girl you were..erm…._talking _too worked there. She said the body of the lawyer couple was still on site, remember?"

When Dean made no attempt to move, Sam frowned. He was about to roll Dean out of the damn bed when his brother pulled the arm shielding his eyes away and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. Sitting up he peered at Sam through squinted eyes.

"What girl?"

"Dean!" Sam threw his hands up in frustration.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." Grabbing a change of clothes and his toiletries Dean stomped into the small bathroom. Within minutes, a cry of "What the hell Sam?" brought a smile to the younger Winchester's face. Guess Dean still hadn't learned to test the water before getting into the shower.

TBC

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Please review, i need some cookies


	2. Chapter 2

What can i say? You guys rock!

On with the show:

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"I just want to see quickly. I promise your name won't be used in the article."

Sam smiled fully at the young woman who stood before him, as he spoke he made a point of scratching the side of his face, brushing the hair from his forehead and leaning forward to look the woman in the eyes. His soft gaze mesmerising her deep brown adoring eyes. He knew he'd won the second she smiled, blushed and began to twist her hair around her fingers.

"I really could get into a lot of trouble. If Dr Shiban comes back to find you in here.."

"Well, I'll just tell him I'm your boyfriend and we wanted a little quiet time together."

"Among the dead bodies?"

Sam took a step closer and smiled again, this time dipping his eyes and slowly bringing them back up, leaving a lazy gaze upon her stomach, lingering across her chest, licking his lips as he came to her neck, smiling again as he locked eyes with her once more. It was a move he'd seen Dean do to perfection.

"Bodies are this way." She whispered huskily. As much as he hated channelling his inner-Dean, Sam had to admit that sometimes, chemistry was the best way to manipulate a situation.

The young woman pulled the handle of the stainless steal compartment, revealing the body of the woman found inside the grave. She'd been washed and cleaned, but still the injuries she'd sustained were easily distinguished. Her hands and arms had distinct defensive marks and her knuckles were bruised and cut as if she'd tried to ward off a relentless attacker. Her face was an assortment of bruises, split lips, cuts and gauges. A look not out of place on many battered women.

"So can you tell me about her other injuries?"

"Well, she has several broken ribs and bruising across most of her body, almost as if she'd been beaten with something flat. There's a nasty cut on the back of her head that Dr Shiban thinks is a result of the blow that must have knocked her out. On top of all that her leg is broken which we're guessing must have been from the fall into the grave."

"So she was beaten to death?"

"Oh no, no she was beaten to holy hell and back, just like the others, but that's not what killed her."

"Really? Then what did?"

"She drowned."

"Drowned? How?"

The young woman frowned and made a 'duh' face .

Sam continued, "What do you mean by 'the others'?"

"The three women before. One was found earlier this year and two others were discovered last year. They all had really similar injuries. This lawyer guy was probably a serial killer or something and decided his wife had to be the next victim." She said as she moved onto the next body. Sam smiled but kept quiet, knowing he was getting more than he should out of the woman and didn't want to question her into silence before he'd seen the second body.

"Well here he is, the adoring husband."

The man's body was in better shape than his wife's, but he still had many scratches and bruises across his face. Sam leaned closer for a better look. There were hand prints and finger bruises across his cheeks and neck along with scratches on his arms and hands.

"She fought back" he whispered.

"Yeah, she gave him one hell of a fight."

The young woman leaned in close, her body leaning into Sam's as she pretended to be inspecting the corpse. Her breathing deepened and she turned her head to gaze into his eyes.

"And what killed this man?" Sam stood up quickly and walked to the other side of the body.

"Well, Dr Shiban found one hell of a wound on the back of his head so the cause of death is officially listed as head trauma. From the position and condition they found the body in we're pretty sure the guy suffered one hell of a seizure before he died too. Shame really."

"Why's that?" asked Sam as he moved toward the door. The young woman advanced toward him with a swing of her hips and brush of her hair.

"Well for beating his old lady and killing her and those others. He deserved to suffer longer. You know there's another body you might want to see before you leave."

"Oh yeah? Who's that?" Sam backed further away as the young woman began to open her shirt.

"Mine."

Sam practically fell out of the door, ran round the corner and jumped into the Impala startling Dean awake with the slam of the door.

"Dude you ok?"

"Drive Dean! For the love of god, drive!"

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"Please don't tell me you flirted with her."

"Just shut up and drive."

"With powers like that Sam, you gotta be careful. No mere mortal can wield a power like that and remain in control."

"Yeah right! Like you were in control last night as you 'wielded' your power."

"Dude I had all those girls eating out of my hand."

"And a guy too."

"What?" Dean quickly corrected the car as he swerved slightly.

"Nothing. So, I figure we need to check out the local obits to see if we can narrow down where this all started. The girl at the morgue said they're pinning all the murders on the lawyer. They think this guy was a serial killer."

"Why are they saying that?"

"Apparently all the women died the same way with the same injuries. And get this they all drowned in the grave. So I figure we need to research anyone that went missing during a storm and take it from there."

"Sounds like you'll have your hands full, Sammy."

"Oh no no no Dean. We're doing this together."

"What? Why?"

"Well, what were you planning to do while I spend the day at the library on the computers?"

Dean frowned, gripped the wheel tighter and willed his hung-over brain to come up with something better than the truth.

"I'll see what I can find out from the police."

"So you're going to walk into the police station, hope they don't pick up on the fact you're a wanted man, and try to get information?"

Sam twisted in his seat and watched his brother's jaw work around the lie he was trying to come up with. Sam knew where Dean wanted to go, knew what it was he wanted to do with his afternoon. Disappearing into drink so he didn't have to think too much. Getting lost in a bottle so that all the events leading up to this moment didn't come crumbling down on him. It was a path that was scaring Sam. A path he thought his brother would walk away from after the first month. Guess big brother wasn't as worried as his little brother was. Sam was damned if he would let him down that road without a fight.

"Fine" conceded Dean when his brain failed to come up with an excuse to not help. "We'll go to the library."

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The newspaper images flew past Dean's eyes fast enough to give him motion sickness. Four hours into their research and already they'd come up with another twelve missing people. All the stories on the missing hikers said the same thing, they'd been caught in bad weather and although some were found drowned in a grave, the others were never seen again.. In this town, it seemed, occurrences of vanishing tourists was just a part of life. The locals all had said a similar thing at the bar the night before, the city folk came out to the country to unwind, always underestimating the terrain and the quick onset of weather. According to one old drunk the weather changed from blue skies to torrential rain, without fail, every April; had done so for over twenty five years now. And every time the weather changed, the locals kept out of the forest while the city folk went missing.

The brothers decided to narrow the search down to storms occurring twenty five years ago. One quick look on line and sure enough, the area suffered the worst storms on record in 1982. Ever since then, for one month every year, the townsfolk kept away from venturing too deep into the forest. The sudden change of weather resulted in flash flooding and missing tourists. Only for a month, and only once a year.

Dean stopped the microfiche machine as a headline from the April 4, 1982 edition of the local paper caught his eye. A local man ,Jack Wells, had disappeared along with a local woman, named Samantha Brady. The towns folk had organised a search party but had been driven back by a sudden change in the weather which caused flash flooding all across the region. When the waters had finally receded the search was resumed .As Dean read on, he gestured to Sam sitting across from him.

"Dude, I think I got something."

"What is it?"

"During those floods in '82, the towns people had been searching for two missing locals, Jack Wells and Samantha Brady. They had to stop the search for a while because of bad weather, but eventually they went back out. They found Jack about five miles into the forest, badly injured but alive. He told them he was planning to run away with Samantha. Apparently her father didn't approve, so they were sneaking out through the forest, to catch the train that ran through the other side."

"Does it say anything about the woman? Did they find her or her body?"

"Nope. Apparently Jack took them to where they had been when the flooding hit, but they couldn't find anything, although it says here that Samantha's father was convinced that Wells murdered his daughter. Authorities even had to locked him up on a few drunken occasions to keep Jack safe."

"You know what we gotta do right?"

"Find the father."

TBC

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Anyone wanna volunteer their body for Sam to check?


	3. Chapter 3

Have i mentioned how much i love you guys? Well i do! Thank you to everyone who's reading this and everyone who's reviewing xxx

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Roman Brady grumbled as he made his slow way through the hallway to the front door with its incessant ringing bell. For years he had threatened his wife that he was going to tear down the damn thing. She'd managed to convince him otherwise. Her death five years ago meant he was free to do whatever the damn hell he wanted. Although he just couldn't bring himself to destroy the bell. That didn't mean he wasn't going to threaten to do it though, even if he was only aiming that threat at the picture of Martha he kept close to his bed. Truth be told the bell hardly ever rang, no one wanted to disturb the town drunk anymore than he wanted to be disturbed.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Keep ya damn hair on you noisy son of a bitch."

Roman walked past the pictures lining the hallway, each one a snapshot of a life that was taken too soon; destroyed so suddenly that grief had yet to work its way through the shock that wrapped him up like a fragile gift and kept him safe and warm in its embrace of denial. Each picture was full of joy and smiles; love and hope. Each picture was a lie. He averted his eyes as he always did, and walked along with his head toward the floor. He flung the door open and grinned in satisfaction as the two men on the porch took a defensive step back.

"Mr Brady?" The taller of the two ventured.

"What the hell do you want?"

"We want to talk to you about Samantha if that's alright?"

"Who are you? I don't want to talk about my little girl. Who the hell are you coming here, asking about her? Out-of-towners all wanting to know about her running off with that son of a bitch. I had nothing to do with his disappearance you know. Whatever they've told you its a lie. Who the hell are you anyway? Well, speak up!"

"Sir?" Dean took a tentative step forward. "We don't want to upset you. We just want to ask you some questions. We're on the cold case squad and we're pretty sure your daughter was murdered. We just need your opinion and permission on this before we pursue it any further."

To Sam's surprise, Roman took a step back and opened the door further, silently inviting the brothers inside. Dean threw his sibling a wink as he stepped past him, crossing the threshold. Sam closed his mouth with an audible click. He could know his brother a million years, and still Dean could surprise the hell out of him. Dean for his part was trying to box up his inner-Sam before the younger man realised that the older had been learning from him.

Roman forwent the niceties and simply sat down in his favourite chair, gesturing for the two men to sit on the couch opposite him. The room was small but homey. Once upon a time there had been a woman's touch that had kept the small house full of warmth and love, once upon a time there had been happy voices and singing. Now though, all that remained of the happiness the house once knew were the pictures that hung from every wall. Pictures of a beautiful young woman with flowing blonde hair and large eyes. She had an innocence to her that Sam couldn't quite identify.

The living room was covered with old newspaper clippings, including the article the brothers has found at the library, maps and weather reports. A TV in the corner had long since given up the ghost and actually laid on its side, the back open and its insides hanging out.

Roman sat back and waited, a scowl deepening across his features as his patience wore thin. Sam took the hint and sat forward, hands clasped in front of him. He had a sincere look in his eyes and his body language indicated that he would listen, without judgement. That he would understand. He took a deep breath and ignored the eye roll he could feel from Dean behind him.

"Sir, there are some things about your daughter's disappearance that don't make a whole lot of sense so we were hoping you could tell us your side of the story."

"What the hell good is that going to do me, huh? I called you people before and you said there was nothing to investigate. I called you after the case was closed back in '82 and you practically laughed at me."

Dean sat forward with every intention of pointing out that in '82 it was doubtful that he or his brother could have done much to help. Sam blocked his brother's forward motion with his elbow and regarded Roman with a firmer look than before.

"Well we're listening now. We want to know now. But if you don't want to help us then that's fine. We'll just file the case away." He made a move to stand. "Sorry for wasting your time Sir."

"Wait." Roman held his hands out, not lowering them until Sam sat back down. "You gotta understand that no one believed me. They closed the case and stopped answering my calls but still that son of a bitch walked around free while my baby was stolen from me."

"What didn't they believe?" Dean sat forward intrigued.

"That Jack…he had a necklace of hers. She never took it off but he had it. The bastard wore it around his neck for a year after she went missing. I cornered him and demanded to know where he got it and you know what he did? He smiled and pushed me away. Told me I was under court orders to not go near him. I had me a bit of a drinking problem, you see. I missed my baby so much; she was taken from me so early. I couldn't do anything but drink."

Sam shifted uncomfortably next to Dean.

"The night she went missing I knew he was the one who took her. I'd caught him trying to talk to her so many times. He was the town playboy. He went after anything with legs."

Dean kept his smirk inside as a dog began barking somewhere in the street.

"My Samantha, she was a pure soul; a kind girl who never knew malice or anger. She was a simple girl who wouldn't harm anyone but she didn't know that there were people that wanted to harm her."

Sam frowned and then looked up as the realisation hit him. Suddenly he recognised the look he'd seen in the eyes of the girl in the pictures.

"Sir, was Samantha mentally handicapped?"

Roman nodded sadly. "She thought everyone was her friend. She was eighteen when that bastard took her but mentally, she was no more than ten. When he started coming around, we'd find them in the front garden talking. He would smile at her over the fence. I caught him once with his hand down her top. She was laughing and giggling, thinking he was just tickling her. I hit him so hard he lost one of his teeth. He didn't press charges that time though. He started going around saying how Samantha had made him see the light. That he was a changed man now and wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happy. Every time someone relayed that story to me in his presence, that bastard he would smile and lick his fingers. It took all my will power to not drag him out into those woods and end him to keep my baby safe."

Roman took a swig from the whiskey bottle next to him. He'd stopped drinking for Martha, but now that both of his girls were gone he didn't see any point in staying sober.

"What happened the night she went missing?" Dean asked, a hard edge in his voice that Sam knew was his psyche going into protective mode. Dead or alive, Dean hated anyone being taken advantage of like that. John had taught him to have respect for all women, and even when hammered and barely standing, Dean still knew how to treat a woman well. He had passed that lesson onto Sam, and for that Sam was eternally grateful. Jessica may have been taken from him too soon, but without his brother's lessons on the female species, Sam may have lost her before he'd ever had a chance to know her.

"Jack had come round, had tried to sneak into her room the night before she disappeared. I chased him away, cornered him in the local bar, and told him to never come near my daughter again. Jack kept saying that he and Samantha were in love and wanted to move to New York together to start a new life. There had been rumours of him raping a city girl the summer before so to have found him shimmying up the drain pipe to get to Samantha, well, you can guess what I wanted to do to him."

"No one would have blamed you if you had." Dean said quietly.

"I often think I should have ended him that night when I had the chance. If I had, Samantha would still be here. But I was pulled away and told to go home. I couldn't do anything more once the sheriff arrived, so I went home. The next night I heard a scream and went running into Samantha's room but she was gone; the window was wide open. I searched for hours but that damn storm hit. It wasn't until four days later that they found that son of a bitch. He was all bloody and concussed and didn't wake up for another three days. He said they were trying to elope together, but were separated in the storm. Nobody ever found my baby's body; just her tattered coat. I searched those woods for weeks but I couldn't find a damn thing. I started….drinking." Roman took another swig of the bottle. "Then when I did find something I couldn't tell a soul."

"What was it you found?" Sam asked.

Roman looked from Sam to Dean. He seemed to be deciding if the time had come to reveal his secret. Another swig from the bottle gave him the courage he needed to continue his story.

"A half dug grave. Found it about seven miles into the woods. Jack was there, shovel in hand. I don't even remember thinking. I don't remember much of anything, to tell you the truth. All I remember is the sight of her face, her beautiful face all decayed and broken. Her _body _all decayed and broken. That bastard was trying to finish the job and bury her. We fought - I can't remember for how long - but I know that by the end of it, he was dead. I buried him as far away from my baby as I could and then I left."

Dean grabbed one of the maps and held it forward to Roman.

"Tell us where, please. Once we have the evidence, he'll pay. You have my word."

"But he's dead. I killed him."

"Doesn't mean we can't kill him some more for you."

xxxxxxxxxx

"So what do you think Sam? Jack's spirit killing people? Trying to finish the job he started twenty five years ago?"

Sam nodded his head and climbed into the Impala.

"That's what it sounds like. Although why does he always go after two people?"

"What do you mean?" Asked Dean as he carefully manoeuvred the car from Roman Brady's drive way and into the early evening traffic.

"All the missing people went into the forest in pairs. I'm figuring that Jack's spirit kills one and then buries the body in that grave."

"Finishing what he wanted to do all those years ago" Dean interjected.

"Right, but then what happens to the other person? The lawyer was the only one they found outside the grave."

"Well, when we get out there Columbo, see if you can figure it out quickly so we can put this thing to bed."

"We're gonna need camping supplies."

"What! No way Sam."

"Look Dean, we can't find both of these sites, dig up both of the bodies and get back before nightfall, even by midnight is going to be pushing it."

Dean frowned as he turned down the street toward the motel. He hated the idea of having to spend a whole night in the woods. No thank you. Not for this Winchester.

"We split up."

"What?"

"Split up. You take the guy. I'll take the girl. We salt and burn them, meet back by the car, then go for beers and steaks."

"In that order?" Sam couldn't keep the laugh from his voice.

"Exactly in that order."

"I don't know man."

Dean slowed the car to a stop outside their room and turned impatiently towards Sam.

"What, Sam?"

"Nothing."

"Its not nothing by that look on your face. Either you've got something to say or lunch is telling you it needs to be evacuated now."

"Dude that's so gross."

"Spill it man. Oh and by 'spill it,' I mean 'speak'."

"Nice! I just don't like the idea of us splitting up is all."

"Ahh Sammy are you afraid to be in the woods all by yourself?"

"Shut up Dean. And no , that's not it."

Sam ducked his head to avoid his older brother's eyes. He hated the idea of going in separate directions; hated the idea of not having Dean in his sight, but he couldn't let his brother know that. Anytime Sam mentioned the fact that Dean was taking too many risks or accused him of not taking his life, or the deal with the demon seriously, big brother frowned, fought and ultimately shut him out and went to find himself a bar. Sam knew he was treading on thin ice.

"Sam?"

"I think we should stick together, Dean. Just in case we're wrong about this and there's something we've not considered. We could be walking into a danger zone and not know it. I don't want either of us to get hurt." It was a low blow, but Sam saw instantly that he had hit his desired mark.

"Yeah you're probably right. I don't want you going after a spirit that might decide to fight back."

"So we stick together?"

"We stick together, Goose."

"Goose?"

"Dude, I am so Maverick."

"No way man! If anything, you're closer to Iceman than Mav."

"That hurts, Sammy." Dean put his hand over his heart. "That hurts so deep."

TBC

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Can you believe it's this thursday our boys are back?! I got so excited that i ate all my cookies so here i am begging for more!


	4. Chapter 4

Once again you guys are the inspiration for us writers! You rock x

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As the brilliant light of the new day began its slow ascent into the sky the brothers set out, walking from the motel toward the car. They were weighed down with bags full of salt, lighter fuel, provisions ("Just in case" Sam said) and shovels. Along with the heavy bags they each carried their own heavy heart. Each morning was a reminder that they were one day closer to the day the debt was due.

It had taken all Sam's persuasive powers the night before to keep Dean from going for 'just one drink'. Truth be told, he knew Dean realised that his little escapism was becoming a nightly ritual, but that didn't mean that Dean was going to give in too easily. After what seemed an eternity big brother had finally thrown up his hands and threw himself onto his bed to sulk. In all his years, Sam had never seen the sight of a twenty-nine year old having a tantrum and pouting. But he'd stayed in and Sam had won, which in his head translated as 'ner ner'.

Dean manoeuvred the sleek car up the road toward the scenic view point that served as the ramblers entrance into the forest. The sun made its slow arc reclaiming the sky. Long shadows were thrown across the landscape giving the woodland an eerily foreboding feel. One Sam tried to ignore. It seemed everything these days forebode something else. A fact Sam knew wasn't lost on Dean. His brother who always paid a little too much attention to every moment they shared, almost as if he knew it might be the last. Would it though? Was that really what Dean was doing? Cataloguing and treasuring each smile, each laugh and each shared look between them?

If he was quiet, Sam was sure he would hear the clock counting down the minutes.

"Dude? Planet earth requires your participation in the upcoming events."

Sam snapped from his reverie and glared at his brother.

"What?"

"You're spazzing out on me."

"Spazzing out?"

Dean made a flying motion with his hand. "Going AWOL , mind not with body, leaving the atmosphere. I need ya here Major Tom."

Sam attempted to keep his glare in check, but the smirk on Dean's face was making that task so much more difficult than it ought to be. After all, he was dealing with an older brother, in need of more action than the world had to offer.

"Dude, are you really this energetic just because you didn't go out last night?"

Sam handed Dean one of the bags from the trunk of the Impala.

"Man I am _always _this energetic in the mornings."

"Oh really? Funny how I never…." Sam frowned at the shit eating grin Dean wore like a badge of honour. "Man I don't want to know."

"Mornings, afternoons, evenings. I'm always at my best at night, but honestly I don't think girls can tell the difference no matter what time of day it is."

"I don't want to know." Sam reinforced his statement by walking ahead into the open arms of the forest.

"Although we could always test my theory. You pick the girls and I'll work my way through the day."

"Dean, shut up."

"Although I'll need to break for lunch of course. Gotta keep my energy up. Among other things."

"SHUT UP!"

Together they followed the path that had been cut through the foliage by hundreds of visiting feet from all across the continent. The area was well known for its views and sights, signs appeared along the trail, pointing out the local viewpoints and perfect photo opportunities. All of this lost on the two men with a purpose who followed the path of ages as if it were the last trek they would ever make. One with a set determination in his eyes to do the job, get it done and move onto something far more important, the other was lost, seeing ahead but not looking. Lost in the memories of all that would never be, of all he had chosen to lose, all he had chosen to gain. One foot in front of the other, one hand marking the passing seconds, his time flowing like sand through glass at a rate that defied the laws of relativity.

Sam slowed and stopped to check the area Roman Brady had indicated as the place he had buried the body of Jack Wells. As he opened the plastic covered map Dean walked straight into the back of him, almost throwing them both to the ground.

"Dean! Man, will you be careful?"

Dean swiped his brother's shoulder with his hand. "Dude! Don't just stop randomly."

"I'm checking the map."

"_I__'__m checking the map_." Mimicked Dean in a high pitched voice.

"That suits you ya know." Sam smirked at the frown his older brother gave him.

"What suits me?"

"Well, if you were take up that guy's offer from the other night, I think that voice and lifestyle would suit you."

"Dude, we are _so _not having this conversation."

Sam checked their position and turned in a slow circle. Finally he pointed beyond them, over toward the right, down a path that looked like only the bravest of hikers dared travel. The ground was moss covered, the space for walking clearly overgrown.

"This way _flower_."

"Sam I swear I will get you back for this."

As they walked further into the woods the trees overhead seemed to join and sway above, blocking out the light and throwing deep shadows onto the ground below. The brothers continued on, oblivious to the change in the weather above. Oblivious to the rain clouds forming in the once blue sky.

Oblivious to the eyes that tracked their every movement.

xxxxxxxxxx

Dean stood and slowly turned in a circle again, scratching his head while looking and waiting for some kind of inspiration.

"You'd think he would have left a sign or something" he called over to Sam who was turning in his own circle of inspiration.

"What? Like 'Here lies the man I killed but please don't hang me for it'?"

"They don't hang in this state."

"Pretty sure they did back then."

"That's just wrong."

"Its just how the law was back then ."

"No I mean its wrong that you know that."

Sam frowned but kept quiet. Truth be told even he didn't know how he knew some of the things he did.

They began to walk their small circles around a bigger circle. Roman had said he'd buried the body four feet below the surface and was pretty sure he'd left some rocks piled on top although he couldn't be completely certain of the fact.

The area Roman had described couldn't really be called a clearing, but there was enough room to dig at least five graves in the ground. The brothers each took a separate area and started to remove the earth. Each hoping that one of them hit pay dirty before they both had to pick the next two areas to start digging.

Dean wiped the sweat from his brow as the overcast morning sun made its lazy transition into afternoon. The gap in the trees above allowed enough room for a few droplets of rain to gently cover them. They now had two large holes but no body in sight.

Typical. Just friggin typical.

Dean took his frustration out on his shovel as he began to dig his second hole. Sam, not far from him, stood up to ease the ache in his back. The popping of joints caused Dean to screw his face up while Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"That's just wrong."

"No, its so right!"

"Dig damn you!"

Sam sniggered and carried on with his second hole. His heart full of warmth from the light-hearted banter. How many more of these moments were there going to be? Who was he going to share jokes with a year from now? Despite his protests to the contrary his mind rebelled and Sam fell under an assault of all the things he was going to miss. No! It wasn't going to happen. He was going to save his brother. He was certain of it. With nothing to do but dig he found the raging war between what his heart hoped and what his mind feared began to overwhelm him. Sam pretended the dirt was his brother, and dug with more venom than he thought possible. The jerk made a deal. Dirt went flying out the hole toward Dean. The jerk doesn't want to talk about the deal. A lump of mud hit Dean square between the shoulders. The jerk doesn't want to help us get him out of the damn deal. Dean stood to shout his displeasure at Sam when a shovel full of dirt hit him direct in the face causing him to gag on what he was pretty sure was a grub.

"Son of a…SAM!"

"What?"

"Watch where you're throwing that mud, I'm covered in it."

"Sorry princess. Didn't mean to mess up your hair."

"What's your problem?"

Sam took a deep breath. What was his problem? Yes he was angry, frustrated, concerned, annoyed, worried. Maybe it was best to not use Dean and the deal as fuel to dig.

"Nothing, sorry."

Dean threw his own shovel full of earth. As Sam ducked he caught sight of a foot, clad in a half degraded tennis shoe.

"Dean! I've got a foot here."

"Ok, I'll give you a hand."

Sam looked up to see his brother holding Jack Wells wrist in the air; the hand waving at him in a macabre way.

"He cut him up?"

"He could have mentioned that."

After another four hours of digging the brothers finally pieced together Jack Wells. Sam arranged all the parts in order to make a mosaic of the man in the dirt before them.

"Its awful when someone falls to pieces like that."

"Dean." Sam groaned as he shook rock salt over the bones.

"Honestly you never know when a person will come apart."

"Stop! Can you give me a hand with the lighter fuel?"

Without looking, Sam held his hand outstretched, only to feel a set of boney fingers being placed in his palm.

"Is this ever gonna end?"

"Keep your head up, Sammy boy."

Sam swore that the sight of Dean holding Jack Wells head aloft would haunt him until his dying days.

"You're a dick you know that right?"

Sam watched as Dean rummaged through the body parts. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sure I saw that bit around here somewhere."

xxxxxxxxxx

By the time the brothers came into the clearing where Samantha Brady had been buried, the sky had darkened and the rain had increased, soaking both men. Sam's hair hung across his face and he swore that even if the only thing he had were pink hair bands, his hair would be up in pig tails before Dean had even thought of a snarky remark.

The clearing stood atop of a large hill, the climb steep enough to leave the traveller slightly out of breath. On one side, the forest stood by, almost as if it were awaiting permission to climb onto the deep grass and overtake the area. On the other side was a sharp drop off. The area between the drop off and the forest sloped in such a way that water ran downhill toward the trees.

There was no need to walk in agonising circles in order to find the grave site for Samantha. Each time a body had been claimed by the grave , the ground around became more desolate. The grass having died in a circle long before the last body had been found.

"That's weird." Sam stood at the edge of the decaying area. The open grave looked freshly dug, almost as if someone had been by in the past hour to dig six feet down and save them the trouble.

"What the hell?"

"I don't know."

"Dude, what the hell?"

Sam breathed heavily and shrugged his shoulders to Dean.

"The police reports stated that the bodies were always found at the bottom of the grave. That's why they thought it was a serial killer and pinned it on that lawyer guy."

"Yeah but …what the hell?"

"Dean! You're not helping."

"Sam.."

"No, seriously man. Simply repeating 'what the hell' isn't getting us anywhere."

"Sam!"

"What?"

Dean pointed behind his brother. At the edge of the clearing, almost hidden by the trees, stood a shimmering figure watching them.

"What the hell?" Said Sam quietly.

"Exactly my point."

The ghost of Samantha Brady watched the two men closely. Her eyes seemed to boar into their souls.

She watched them as the growing wind wound her dirty white dress around her body, she wore one shoe, the other long forgotten in a battle that occurred so long ago. Her fingers were muddy and her hair fell limply across her shoulders. Her face though, maintained a look of innocence that demanded attention; an innocence that seemed to hide another reason for her being there.

She walked forward, oblivious to her footsteps skipping every few steps, throwing her body further ahead as she walked. She tilted her head, regarding the two brothers carefully.

Sam took a step forward, brushing off Dean's protective hand against his arm.

"We're not here to hurt you, we just want to help."

Dean took a step toward the grave, a hand going to the bag on his back in order to salt the bones while Sam kept the spirit occupied. He peered over the edge and his heart sunk.

"Sammy, no bones" he said quietly.

"What?" Sam whispered, he didn't dare look behind at his brother.

"No bones. She's either buried deeper or not buried here at all."

"Roman said he reburied her didn't he?"

"Well, considering how he described the one grave for Jack I'm gonna guess that when he said 'my baby's still up there' that he didn't mean her bones."

"Shit."

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

"What do you want?" asked Samantha as she advanced toward Sam.

"We just want to help you rest."

"Rest? But I'm not tired." Her voice had a strange sing-song quality to it, like that of a young child who's waiting her turn at the game everyone else has been playing for years.

Dean reached into his bag, feeling for the shot gun, but before he had a chance to react, the ghost launched herself toward Sam. Dean spun round, intent on firing at the spirit and buying them some time to figure this damn thing out.

"Where the hell did she go?" He spun in a slow circle. Shot gun held against his shoulder, ready to fire the second she reappeared. "Sam you see her?"

Nothing. There was nothing. How the hell were they supposed to deal with a damn spirit when there were no bones to burn on the godforsaken hill in the middle of a friggin' rain storm out in the goddamn woods? Dean licked his lips, his sudden need for alcohol alerting his brain to the fact that maybe Sam was right and he was drinking too much.

Sam.

"Sammy are you asleep over there?"

Sam turned slowly, flicked his hair from his eyes and tilted his head toward Dean.

"I told you, I'm not tired."

TBC

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evil cliffie! Muhahaha!!!!

ps: ONE MORE DAY TO GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys, so what did everyone think of the Premiere? I was blown away, knocked over and walked through!! Awesome! This season is gonna be amazing (as if we expected anything less!)

So, even though i left you with an evil cliffie you still sent me cookies! I love you guys! You are way too kind!!

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In the time it had taken for Samantha to take Sam's body for her own, two things happened to Dean.

Firstly, the child that stayed in the dark corner of his psyche, the child who usually whispered its disappointment and displeasure at Dean's failings, began to scream in a loud voice 'AGAIN! YOU FAILED SAM AGAIN!'.

Secondly, he realised he was alone in this. There was no devils trap he could use, no holy water that would work and he was pretty sure that shooting Sam with rock salt, although chalking up a score on his side, would only further screw the situation all to hell.

So instead Dean did the only thing he could where Sam was involved. He ground down in determination and took the blows as they came.

Samantha advanced in Sam's body with the grace of a new born foal finding its feet. She stalled and swayed, almost falling to the ground, and finally lurched toward him. All the while Dean did nothing but hold out his hands in a placating gesture as he attempted to ask Samantha what it was that she wanted.

The first blow to his head caused his words to fail him. It wasn't _Sam_, it was _Samantha_. Yet the fact that his brothers body was being used once again, as a weapon against Dean wasn't something the older man wanted to dwell on, yet his mind refused to let go of the image as Samantha again used Sam's body to knock Dean down to his knees, planting a heavy boot against his side and knocking the wind from him.

Dean tried to roll away as another kick landed heavily on the small of his back. He felt no bones break, but he knew they came close. Another blow to his side elicited a cry of pain as two ribs cracked inside his body.

He clawed his way toward his duffle. Sam or Samantha, at this point he didn't care, both bitches were gonna get a chest full of rock salt. Dean focused on crawling, hand over hand as he slowly made his way to the bag that stood precariously on the edge of the open grave. The rain begun to fall heavily which only helped to impeded his slightly uphill climb. Suddenly his legs were pulled back and his body flipped so that he was lying on his back, staring up at the darkening sky and into the eyes of his brother.

Sam quirked his head to the side, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. The man was going to beg. Samantha could tell. She'd seen the look before. Beg for this body she inhabited. They always did, the love people held for each other allowed them to reach levels their normal minds would never allow. Those who would never cry; cried. Those who would never lower themselves to beg and plead; always did.

Why?

Nobody begged for her as she died. Did they? No one heard her desperation and listened to her pleas as Jack was killed. It wasn't his fault she had died, it wasn't his fault and yet he was made to pay because the secret of her death had been exposed.

Far beneath the surface, within the depths of her need and desperation, she could feel him. Fingersnails digging inside as he tried to pull himself toward the surface; pull himself toward the man he called Dean. He screamed his name over and over. Words of comfort and encouragement. Calling for Dean to do what he needed to do in order to save himself.

Sam screamed with all his might as his body once again rebelled against his commands and a boot came down on the hand Dean was using to try to pull the shot gun toward him.

Dean grunted, but he wouldn't scream. He wouldn't. But Sam did. Unheard and unknown he screamed deep inside his body as Samantha grinned as if she were a two-way mirror. Outside to Dean, inside to her captive.

Dean held up his hands again, his eyes pleading for her to listen.

"Wait! Samantha, what is it you want? Just tell me." He coughed as water ran past his head and into his mouth as Samantha slapped his head to the side.

"You're here to ruin it. I can't let you. I can't. I won't you hear me! NO!"

"Sam!" Dean cringed outwardly as Sam cringed inwardly. "Samantha." He corrected. "I'm not here to ruin anything, I promise. We just want to put you to rest.

"I told you. I'm. Not. Tired." To further enhance her resolve she kicked Dean's leg harshly.

"Maybe not tired," Dean began, "but what Jack did was wrong. We can make that right. Your Dad wants us to make it right." Dean held his leg as another kick hit the same spot as before. He resisted the urge to roll onto his side into a ball. He needed to be strong. He needed to help his brother who was trapped in there somewhere. Dean was damned if he was gonna lose him again.

Although, he realised with an odd sense of irony, he was damned either way.

Samantha dropped down to her knees before Dean. He frowned as he realised that she seemed to be….listening to something. But to what?

Sam fought forward and demanded her attention. He didn't know how, but he caught her inner gaze and held it.

"How can we help?" he asked the child that appeared before him. The scared lonely child who sat with her legs crossed and her head cast down in sorrow.

"Can't help."

"Why not? Just tell me."

"Can't tell, you'll get mad and hurt me."

"I won't. I promise."

"That's what they all say when they ask what's going on. But they always hurt me. They always fight back."

"Can you tell Dean? Can you tell my brother?"

"Why?"

"We want to help you in any way we can. We thought we were helping but if we aren't, I'm sorry. Tell Dean. He'll help."

"He nice?"

"Yeah. Yeah Samantha, he is."

"Cute."

_Oh for the__…_

"Yep, and nice and he wants to help and listen."

Dean had watched as Sam's eyes rolled to the back of his head, but his body had stayed upright. The hands in the dirt in front of Sam running mud through the long fingers. At first Dean tried to reach for the shot gun, but something, some instinct told him to stop. What if Sam was reaching her? Wouldn't be nice to interrupt if he was making progress, and it certainly wouldn't be nice to shoot his brother with rock salt if he didn't have to.

Sam rocked forward, his eyes springing up and locking onto Dean's with such intense ferocity that if he could have, he would have backed off and hidden himself in the grave.

"Says you can help."

"Who?" Dean asked carefully.

"Him." Samantha pointed toward Sam's body. "Says you'll listen, you'll help."

"I will." Dean nodded his confirmation and then realised that was a very, very bad idea. His vision was swimming from the blow to his head and the pain radiated across his body. The adrenaline pumping through his beaten system kept his eyes open, awake and alert for the words he needed to hear.

"You can't tell."

"Promise I won't."

"Cross your heart?"

"And hope to die."

"Not Jack's fault."

Dean was slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation.

"What wasn't?"

"I hurt myself and he tried to make it better. He loved me. He told me so and he showed me so."

"How'd he show you?" Dean asked reluctantly.

Samantha touched herself across the breastbone, then down. Dean averted his eyes.

"Jack said that only people who really love you will do that to you. Jack said that only he'd ever love me cos I'm broken. Jack said he would look after me and keep me safe. Jack said it was only a game. Just a game."

Dean frowned and carefully pulled himself into a sitting position, one arm, the arm attached to the hand that he was pretty sure was if not broken, severely bruised, braced across his delicate ribs, the other propped behind him to keep him upright.

"What game did he make you play?"

"It was a hide-and-seek game."

Dean closed his eyes. It wasn't Sam who had been raped, but it was his voice and his body relaying the story. Deep within Dean, the fear and anger toward Jack intensified ten fold.

"He was wrong, Samantha. Its a bad game. You're not supposed to play it unless you know the rules."

"I knew the rules!" She rocked forward in anger. "I knew the rules and I wanted to play because no one else would play with me and Jack loved me. He loved me!"

Dean took a steadying breath. Attacking Jack wasn't helping. He needed another tactic.

"Jack was going to make a better life for you?"

Samantha nodded.

"Look after you and care for you?"

Another nod.

"What went wrong sweetheart?" The soft lilt and caring tone in Dean's voice caused Samantha to blush through Sam's cheeks. She giggled softly.

"He played too rough. Boys always played too rough. My Daddy warned me. But then Jack got scared." Samantha began to rock back and forth. "He got scared and kept saying sorry. He was so silly though, he said sorry and then hit me again. Silly boy." Samantha giggled again.

"Then what happened?" Dean's voice was barely audible as the events played out through his minds eye.

"He told me to be quiet. But all the water was scary and I really wanted to go home. But Jack said he'd get in trouble and my Daddy would break us up and I'd never see him again." Samantha angrily swiped the tears that dared fall from Sam's eyes. "He said I wasn't helping and that I was silly and useless and stupid. I tried to stop crying but I couldn't. Then Jack got mad and said he'd go to jail and I'd never see him again. Then he…" Samantha trailed off, her eyes seeing something so far in the distance and so far back in time that Dean worried he was losing her. Losing both of them.

"Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head sadly.

"No, he hugged me. Hugged me until the pain all went away. Hugged me against his chest until all the tears dried up. Hugged me tightly until the rain stopped and it was nighttime again. I saw him crying. He was holding me, but I saw him from over there." She gestured clumsily with Sam's hand toward the tree line.

"You saw him hug you over there?"

"No silly." giggled Samantha. "He was hugging me _here_, but I was watching from over _there_."

"Then what happened?"

"He tried to dig a hole to keep me safe, but there were voices in the forest so he ran away. He didn't finish the job. Daddy came and found me but Jack never finished the job and he got into trouble. I can't let him get into trouble. I can't."

Dean's face mimicked Sam's feelings .

"You're covering up the bodies?" he stared, shocked and bewildered. "You're finishing what Jack started."

Samantha ignored him and looked around the area, her body had become agitated and shimmered against Sam's form. She was searching for something. Looking for something.

Or someone.

"Samantha?"

"What?"

"Jack's not coming."

She turned fearful eyes toward Dean.

"What?"

"You're waiting for Jack aren't you?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes falling to the ground. "He always comes to take over the other one. We have to finish what he never could. I take one and use them to stop the other." She gestured half heartedly toward Dean. "Then he finishes what he was supposed to and I go to sleep again."

"Where does he usually go when he's finished?"

"Back into the forest. He takes the other one and goes back into the forest. It has to be kept a secret. No one can find me and no one can see the grave. If they get too close then they have to be shushed." Samantha put a finger to her lips. "They have to be quiet." she whispered.

Dean closed his eyes as a wave of pain that began in his thigh made its way like a tsunami up his torso and into his hand and head. He was getting weaker from the onslaught of pain and he knew that he needed to act soon if he was going to get Sam back.

"Samantha? Jack's not coming. He'd be here by now wouldn't he?"

She nodded sadly.

"Well then let us help you. Let Sam go and leave him alone and we'll cover up the grave for you."

The hopeful eyes that found his quietly desperate ones almost caused Dean to gasp. The young woman had been through so much, yet she still believed that Jack was good and pure and had simply wanted to take care of her and love her, as she loved him. Soon she would realise he wasn't there anymore and had really truly moved on without her. Dean was pretty sure that once reality set in, he wouldn't have the strength to fight her off.

She stood abruptly , hands on hips as she surveyed the area.

"He's not coming." Not a question. A statement of fact. "Jack's not coming. What did you do?" Her accusing eyes bore a hole into Dean's skull.

Where was her Jack? Did they find him? Samantha walked in a frantic circle, searching his mind for answers. Sam resisted as best he could but she found what she was looking for.

She found the truth.

Dean cringed as a look of hatred suddenly crossed Sam's features. It was a look worse than the one he'd seen on his brother's face in Ellicot's basement, and more intense than the look on Sam's face when Meg had taken him on the little joy ride that almost killed both Dean and Bobby.

It was a look of complete and absolute betrayal.

Suddenly Samantha lunged forward and gripped the front of Dean's shirt, pulling him painfully upright and landing a kick to his midsection. Strong hands denied him the relief of doubling over as she threw him back toward the forest. Dean landed in a heavy heap of tangled limbs and lost breath as he opened his eyes to see Sam advancing. For a split second, his brain was too dazed to think anything other than '_Why Sam? What did I do?_'. Samantha gripped Dean by his injured hand and dragged him back to the grave site. She dropped him unceremoniously by the edge, her hands flying to her ears in an attempt to keep Sam's screams and pleads at bay.

There was a force building within the body she controlled. She could feel the tips of his fingers begin to vibrate with the emotions welling up inside of him. It was getting harder to think and even harder to breathe while wrapped around the man she had so easily trapped. He was tearing at her insides trying to find his way out. His fingernails piercing through her soul as he fought to save his brother.

If he got out so would the secret. She had to protect Jack. It was her first priority.

Lifting Dean by his shirt once again, she spat in his face. Dean's arms reached out to grab the hands that lifted him so high. He tried to speak, tried to ask for help, tried to call out his brothers name, anything than take this so silently. But words failed him. He was looking into the eyes that caused his world to revolve. He was looking into the eyes of his death.

Samantha screamed, lifted Dean higher and threw him into the grave. He fell for seconds but to the older man it felt like years. His mind telling him that it wasn't happening; that it wasn't real.

That it wasn't Sam.

The breaking sound made by the bone in his left leg, just below the knee, knocked the wind out of him before the pain even registered.

And all he knew after that was darkness.

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Sam's screams fell on possessed ears as he struggled within the confines of his own body, a prisoner against a long dead attacker. Sam felt the tingling reaching his soul, buried deep within his mind. A charge was building, like an electro magnetic pulse about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world. He began to feel his body; he began to feel Samantha's panic.

He began to feel the anger.

Samantha tried to step back from the grave but the legs she'd claimed as her own wouldn't move. There was a deep vibration and anger; there was movement within. She raised Sam's hands and covered her ears from the sound that was building like a speeding freight train in her head.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She screamed to a world that wouldn't listen; a world that had ignored her pleas for so long.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was in control. She subdued the foolish people that tried to unleash the long buried secret. She was waiting for Jack to take over where she left off. She was waiting to remove herself from the body and allow Jack to take the prisoner into the woods where they would disappear without a trace. The trauma of having two spirits inhabiting the one body would cause massive trauma to the host's brain, resulting in seizures which, ultimately cost them their lives and left them deep in the forest without burial or cremation to allow their loved ones to grieve.

Samantha tried to spin on the spot, to break the hold Sam had over his own body. She tried to shake him off like a dog dislodging unwanted fleas. She was failing. She was losing. She was growing weaker.

Sam felt more of his body come back to him and he felt the ache in his limbs and a growing pain in his head. He fought for control, fought for his life, fought for Dean. Summoning all his strength Sam let forth a scream that tore from his own lips as Samantha became suffocated inside the body she had hijacked. A white light surrounded Sam, shimmering like the current of a Jacob's ladder, striking out against the trees and the ground, all the while growing in strength and purpose.

Samantha screamed as she felt her power leave her. Her body, so transparent and broken, fell from Sam's to land in a heap at his feet. Looking down, Sam could see the electricity branching out from his hands and into Samantha's spirit, burning her from the inside out.

He tried to stop it, tried to stem the flow of lethal energy, but it was too late. Samantha screamed once more as her form splintered into a thousand shards of light and disappeared into the nothingness of death for the dead.

The electricity began to recede as Sam blindly stumbled backward. His nose began to bleed as he raised his hands in confusion. One step, two steps, three steps back and he fell into the grave and onto Dean, rolling from his unconscious sibling and coming to a stop in the corner of the muddied hole. The pain in his head increased in intensity as his body became charged with energy of another kind.

Dean slowly peeled his eyes open. Pain registered all over his body as his confused mind tried to piece together the events that had led him here.

He was in a grave.

They had been hunting a spirit.

Sam had been possessed.

Sam!

Dean tried to roll over in order to claw his way from the grave but movement to his left halted his actions and froze his breath. Sam lay in a heap in the corner, attempting to reach out a hand to Dean before the slight tremor of his body exploded into a quivering nightmare the likes of which Dean had never seen. Sam's hands and feet contorted toward his body as the quivering motions grew in strength, each nerve ending on fire.

Dean tried to drag his body the short distance across the mud and rocks at the bottom of the hole to his brother, clawing his way toward the shaking, moaning younger man. Sam's eyes were open and focused on his brother, silently making a desperate plea for Dean to make it better; to take the pain away by holding him until the horror of the nightmare faded into the distance and the images retreated into nothing but a vague memory of something evil. _Make it stop Dean, please_.

"I'm here Sammy, it's gonna be alright. I'm here." He called breathlessly, unsure if his reassurances were heard.

Dean was finally close enough to lay a bloodied hand on Sam's shoulder. The shaking was beginning to subside and he watched helplessly as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head . One second his body was so full of vibration and energy; the next it became still and almost….no! Don't think that word. Not again. Not again.

"Sam? SAMMY?!" Dean pulled himself further forward and used all his strength to lift Sam's shoulders. He shimmied beneath the younger man, laying Sam's head in his lap and running a hand through the unconscious man's hair.

Dean held his brother close, the pain in his ribs and back ignored. He concentrated on his movements, rocking back and forth, making it ok, all the while humming a long forgotten song.

TBC

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Not quite as evil a cliffie for you! I'm now off to watch the awesome season opener again! x


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to read this little walk in the woods, and thanks to all those who drop me a line to let me know what they think xxxx

Still a ways to go yet though!!

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Dean opened his eyes slowly, aware that his back was saturated with the rain that continued to fall. He held Sam close, not wanting to break contact in order to pull himself away, even though he knew he needed to check Sam for injuries and position him more comfortably.

Sam's seizure had lasted over a minute. At one point the younger man had stopped breathing which, in turn, halted the beats of Dean's heart. He'd held tight, supporting Sam's head, and waited for the nightmare to end.

Dean lost a few tears when Sam's shaky voice had called his name, had held even tighter, reassuring the younger hunter that he was there, they were ok, they really were ok. Sam had sighed and tried to reach a hand to his brother. He wasn't sure what had happened or why Dean seemed so upset. He tried to make it ok and say something that would make Dean smile, but his eyes were so heavy, almost as if the lids were being pulled closed by an unseen force. Sam didn't know where they were or what had happened, but he felt warm and safe in Dean's arms. He allowed his eyes to close as sleep over took him.

Dean held Sam as his tears fell and held him as the rain washed over them both. Soon though, his body called for the need to sleep, and he joined his brother in slumber. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but when he next awoke, the sky had grown dark and the rain had eased off slightly. The ground was soggy and small puddles had formed within the grave, soaking them where they sat. If he had the strength and the inclination, Dean would have moved his unconscious brother toward the steeper part of the grave.

Dean's shaking fingers found Sam's carotid artery and he pressed hard, unaware that he had been holding his breath until the air rushed out of his lungs in blessed relief at the strong pulse beneath his fingertips.

"Sammy?" Dean shook the younger man gently, hoping to garner a reaction from his sleeping sibling.

"Man, you gotta wake up soon. You hear? I need someone to talk to so it might as well be you. Haven't seen that dead chick in a while so I'm guessing either you found a way to get rid of her or she's left us here to die. Or probably it's more likely you bored the crap outta her and she left." Dean laughed but there was no humour to the sound. He shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, but only succeeded in letting the water find another way in toward his cold and battered body.

"Dammit! Sam, I hope you realise that while you're all nice and comfortable there I've got a puddle in my boxers. Wish you would wake up man, not that I'm letting go of you but you and your fat belly are playing merry hell with my ribs."

Dean reached up a shaking hand to wipe the rain from his eyes. He held the hand in front of his face and frowned at the blood which had collected around his fingers. He gingerly flexed them one by one.

"Don't think she broke my hand, but I wouldn't be surprised. I can move my fingers though, but I'm pretty sure my thumb isn't supposed to point that way."

Dean fought back the nausea that rushed through him. He entertained the thought of putting the digit back in place himself but quickly dismissed the idea.

"Think my leg is broken, Sammy. Well, actually bro, I know it is. Guess you'd better wake up soon and haul my ass out of here. Be careful with the goods though, dude, cos I'm a protected species in the eyes of woman all around the world."

Dean pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, opened it, frowned, and put it back.

"No reception. Friggin perfect."

Dean frowned again, this time at the red stain just below his left knee.

"Huh! Well I guess that explains why I feel like crap. Got me some leg bone trying to escape, Sam. Setting that is gonna be a bitch. But then again, crutches are always good for sympathy with the women folk of the planet." Dean laughed again, but ended up suppressing a coughing fit that brought tears to his eyes from the pain in his ribs.

"Dude, you'd think by being all big and hairy that you'd keep a guy warmer." Dean tried to pull his coat further around his body but gave up when the weight of his brother and his injured hand hindered all his attempts. He shivered, ignoring the nagging voice in his mind that kept whispering 'well done dude, you got yourself an infection'. Instead he tried to push his body further back into the mud only to be reminded of the foot to his back he'd endured.

"Great. Well I guess that's how my life goes hey Sammy? I'm the punch bag for everything that decides to possess my family. What does that say about God and his plans for me? I know you got faith man, and I gotta admit, after what I saw with that Father Gregory dude showing you evil before it happened, I'm willing to believe there is such a thing as God's Will. But tell me this, why is it that every evil son of a bitch out there uses the people I love the most against me? Well?" Dean frowned but forced the tears that welled in his eyes to retreat.

"Dude, I really thought I was doing the right thing, you know? Making that deal. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No matter how mad you are at me for doing it. I wouldn't change a thing, but man, I can't take the guilt you've taken to wearing around your shoulders like a goddamn coat. It was my choice. I couldn't live without you man so I did what I had to."

Dean wiped the sweat from his eyes, oblivious to the rain beginning to fall harder.

"Damn it, Sam, I don't know why I'm saying all this. Guess you being all unconscious makes a guy wanna pour his heart out. I gotta admit though, I thought she was gonna give me longer than one year" Dean laughed bitterly and spat onto the ground beside him to rid his mouth of the taste of the demon sealing the deal. "I figured ten years with you, we'd find that evil son of a bitch and then go on one hell of a holiday. Go to Vegas, go to the Grand Canyon, hell even go live the high life somewhere where we didn't have to worry about demons and spirits. What was I thinking? There was no way it was gonna work out right for me, I screwed it all up and look what happened. Killed that demon barely a day after making that deal, and now what? You're mad at me for giving up my life, but man, do you know how much I've treasured everything for the past three months? I know I've wasted some of it, drank away some of it, but dude, every smile you give me, every laugh I hear, every word you say, I've treasured it all. You're alive Sammy. That's all that matters. I wish I could slow down time so that we could treasure each moment but that's not gonna happen dude. I feel like the hour glass has sped up. Someone's added extra holes to that sucker like an insane joke at my expense."

Dean wiped angrily at his eyes and stared at the growing red spot on his leg. His foot was immersed in water but he couldn't feel it and he didn't care. All he cared about was Sam.

"Sammy you gotta promise me that you'll live your life to the fullest. I really wish you wouldn't carry on with hunting, but I know you might wanna do that for Dad. For me. But I want you to know that I don't want you to hunt. Not without me by your side. You hear me?" Dean shook Sam gently for emphasis. "When I'm gone you're to go back to school, finish that law thing of yours, get yourself a decent safe job, marry yourself a nice girl and have kids. Although you have to promise me to name one of your kids after me, maybe add Hetfield as a middle name too."

Dean shivered against Sam's body, pulled his brother closer, and rested his head against the wall behind him. Sam kept still, barely making a sound as he inhaled. He'd been awake long enough to have heard there was no cell reception. Been awake long enough to know the rain was falling heavier than before. He knew he should have made a sound, moved to get out from Dean's embrace, but he needed to hear those words. He felt like a traitor eavesdropping, but with Dean, it was the only way to learn the truth.

So he stayed warm and comfortable against Dean until his brother's shivering became too worrying to ignore. He moaned gently and moved his head carefully away from Dean's chest.

"Sammy?"

"Hey Dean."

"Hey man, its ok, you're ok." Dean had never felt so relieved. He allowed Sam to pull away from him. The younger man sat up carefully and stretched his aching limbs.

"How do you feel?"

Sam had to laugh at Dean, his brother sat slumped and bleeding yet it was Sam that had to give inventory first.

How did he feel though? His heart was close to breaking point and all he wanted to do was take his brother and run away until the evil of the world couldn't find them.

"Got one hell of a headache" Sam said, taking physical inventory instead of sharing his real feelings. "I ache all over, like I've been running a marathon."

Sam stretched again. Why did he ache so bad?

"When have you ever run a marathon?" Dean smirked. "Dude, you fell in the grave, I guess, I was kinda out of it, but when I woke up you were having a seizure or something." Dean gestured lazily with his hand, concern written across his features. "What happened with the spirit?"

Sam frowned and ran a hand through his hair, his fingers settling on the back of his neck kneading the knots he found. What did he remember?

"I…er….remember Samantha ran at me."

Dean nodded expectantly. He pursed his lips as he waited; huffing out a breath as he became impatient.

"Seriously? That all you remember?"

"Yeah, I must have hit my head or something. Dude, I can't remember anything after that. I definitely don't remember having a seizure."

"Well, you did." Dean stated matter-of-factly . "Scared the crap outta me."

Sam looked at Dean and smiled. Then he paused and _really _looked at Dean.

"Shit, man!" Sam moved forward as quickly as his lethargic body would allow. He carefully inspected Dean's leg, before moving on to his torso. The older man watched his brother's movements with glassy eyes. Arms hung limp by his side as Sam's ministrations caused his body to jerk involuntarily.

Sam ignored the panic as he catalogued Dean's injuries. Broken leg, bone broken through the skin. At least two broken ribs. Bruises on bruises. As he laid the back of his hand against Dean's forehead, Sam wasn't sure what scared him more- the heat from his brother's skin, or the fact Dean leaned into the touch.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Samantha chick kinda used your body to pummel me."

Sam allowed his head to fall toward his chest. Again. It had happened again. What was it with him getting possessed?

"Sam, don't. Please, don't do that. It wasn't you; wasn't your fault."

"Was my body she used."

"But you tried to fight her. You bought me some time."

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"Stop it!" Dean said with more force than he thought he could at that moment in time. "Not your fault so lay your guilt somewhere else. I mean it." Dean coughed suddenly, halting his whole 'wasn't you' speech. The same one he'd made before.

Sam took a deep breath as Dean got his breathing under control.

"We gotta get out of here, man. First, though, I gotta patch you up a bit, ok?"

"Why don't you stroll down the hill, call for help then come back to me with a warm cup of coffee and one of those girls from the other night."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not leaving you. It won't be too far until we get reception. We can't bring help back here because they'll see the grave and re-open the case, plus not all those girls from the other night were _girls_."

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam left his hand to rest on Dean's shoulder, squeezing affectionately as his brain insisted on the dual task of trying to figure an easy way to get Dean out of the hole, and trying to remember what it was that actually happened with Samantha.

"Dean? I gotta go get the packs. I'll be back."

"Wait!" Dean grabbed onto Sam's arm. "What if Samantha is still out there?"

Sam shook his head. Something inside him told him that wasn't the case. "I don't think she is."

"What makes you say that?"

"I can't explain it, it's just a feeling. Stay here I'll go get the bags."

"Where the friggin hell else am I gonna go, Sam?"

Sam resisted the urge to slap his injured sibling upside his head. After all, Dean was hurt, tired and worried, he deserved the right to be testy. Didn't he?

Sam gathered his strength and crawled out of the grave, he rested at the top for a moment, catching his breath and again wandered just what the hell had happened for him to end up in the grave with Dean and a certainty that Samantha was gone for good.

His limbs felt heavy but the ache was beginning to recede. He still felt tired and the pain in his head a constant drum beat, but at least now he could look around him without squinting. The rain had saturated the ground and didn't look as if it were about to abate any time soon. Very aware that the other victims in the grave had all drowned, Sam gathered up their packs and climbed carefully back down into the grave. Dean hadn't moved, but Sam could see, even in the dark of night, the tremors that ran through his body.

He rummaged in his pack until he found a bottle of water, gently holding it to Dean's mouth he encouraged his brother to drink despite his protests to the contrary.

A further search of both their packs turned up nothing more than a couple of sandwiches, shot guns , salt and lighter fuel.

So much for being prepared for camping.

Sam unwrapped one of the sandwiches and held it out to Dean who weakly shook his head. Now that he wasn't having to watch over Sam his body was giving in to the exhaustion and pain of his injuries.

"Dean, man just eat half of this."

"You eat it. I'm really not hungry."

"I'm gonna eat the other one. Have at least a quarter then, ok?" Dean reluctantly reached for the sandwich with his injured right hand, Sam pulled the food out from his reach as if it were on fire.

"Jesus Dean!" Gently, he took Dean's injured hand in his own. The thumb was definitely dislocated and the skin on the back of his hand broken and grazed. Sam was sure he could see bone through one of the deepest cuts. "She used my boot to do that?"

Dean nodded and grimaced as Sam wrapped his fingers around his dislocated thumb.

"Ready?"

"Sam you can just leave it where….ARGH!" Dean began to breathe quickly, trying to override the pain that shot from his thumb, through his hand, up his arm and into his head, causing a firework display of pain across his vision.

"Breathe Dean. Its ok, its over. Breathe man." Sam ran his hand up and down Dean's arm as he coaxed him through the shock of the action. No need to give a warning when both parties know its gonna hurt like hell.

"Damm it Sam!" Dean squeezed his eyes tightly shut as another wave of pain assaulted his senses. Sam wrapped his hand with a piece of his shirt. When had his brother removed his long sleeved shirt? How long had he been trying to breathe while fighting off the urge to throw up or pass out?

Sam tightened the torn fabric around Dean's hand and hoped the support would ease the pain. It would at least help stop more dirt getting into the various cuts. He sat back and admired his handiwork, then handed Dean the sandwich again. He refused to look away until his brother had taken at least three bites.

"I need to go get some wood. You be ok here for a sec?"

Dean nodded and Sam tried to not let his worry go into overdrive at the lack of colour to Dean's skin or the pasty sweat that covered his face. He pulled himself from the hole with more ease than before and ran to the edge of the forest, searching for two sticks that could serve as splints, ignoring the knowledge of what he had to do next.

"Sammy?" Dean called weakly from the bottom of the grave. "You better not be thinking about setting my leg."

"Nope, thought never crossed my mind, Dean." Sam called back.

"Good, cos that would suck out loud and be a shitty end to a shitty day."

"Its almost morning, Dean."

"Ok, so that would be a shitty start to a new day."

Sam jumped back down into the grave and placed the sticks next to the torn shreds of his shirt. He didn't look at Dean's face. He didn't dare look into those eyes that trusted him so much and loved him so deeply. Just one look would be his undoing and he'd never be able to do what was needed.

Bracing his hands on either side of Dean's leg, Sam aligned the bone and tried to block the scream that was wrenched from his brother's throat. He cleaned the gash as best he could, splinting the limb and tying off the shirt shreds around the sticks. By the time he has finished, both he and Dean were sweating and shaking and in desperate need of a shot of whiskey. Carefully feeling in Dean's pockets, he smiled when he found the canteen he was looking for. Dean's head had slumped forward toward his chest so Sam gingerly lifted his chin so his mouth could close around the canteen and take a deep drink of the warming whiskey within. Dean pulled back after two long gulps and pushed the canteen toward Sam with his good hand.

"You."

Sam nodded and took a long drink of his own, pocketing the canteen for later.

"So," Sam pulled Dean's jacket tighter around him, noting the far away look in his brother's eyes. "you ready to get out of this hell hole?"

"We leaving? Where we going?" Dean's voice was almost a whisper, his eyes searching in confusion as he tried to piece together where they were and why they were going. All he knew was he that he was tired, hot _and _cold, and in more pain that he ever wanted to feel. But his belly felt warm. At least that was something.

"Yeah, man." Sam pulled Dean's good hand toward him, levering his brother up and onto his shoulder and ignoring Dean's cry of pain as his injured ribs were jarred, "We're going for a nature hike."

"Hate nature." groused Dean.

"Yeah, I don't blame you," Sam grunted as he lifted Dean higher, rolling him up until he sat on the edge of the grave. Too exhausted to hold himself upright, Dean's body fell back onto the wet ground above. Sam climbed out after Dean and dragged his brother to the tree line.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"You ok?"

"A little wet. Think I had a puddle in my boxers."

"Yeah," laughed Sam. "Let's get out of here and get dry."

"Best idea you've had all day."

Sam pulled Dean toward a tree and leant him against the supportive bark, grimacing as his brother cried out in pain as his ribs were once again subjected to the torture of the movement. Sam sighed in relief as he felt Dean go limp, finally succumbing to the oblivion of unconsciousness.

After an hour of searching, Sam finally had the wood he needed to make a travois to drag his brother back to safety. Using his jacket he pulled the thicker sticks through the arms and tied off the sleeves. It was poor, but it would get them away from the grave site and within range to call for help.

Slowly the two made their way from the grave, away from the horror that had replayed countless times before. As Sam walked away from the grave and into the forest with his precious cargo the grave began to cave in on itself. The walls began to crumble as the water assault became too much for the earth to sustain. As the hole filled, mud compacted on top of the bones that lay just beneath the surface. The depth of the grave never giving away the secrets that lay two feet below the six foot depth, where Samantha lay lost to all.

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Dean was pretty sure he was being pulled along. By what, he didn't know, but he knew they were moving. His awareness slowly came back to him, along with the pain and the feeling that he either had the flu, or there was something else wrong with him. He shivered and let out a moan as he felt himself coming to a halt and being lowered to the ground. Fearing what he might find when he opened his eyes, Dean risked them one at a time.

"Sammy?"

Sam lifted Dean's chin and poured a small amount of water into his mouth.

"It's ok man, we're getting out of here."

"You pulling me?"

"Yep." As Dean's vision returned to normal he saw a very smug, very dirty Sam come into focus.

"How?"

"How am I pulling you?" Dean nodded and Sam poured a little more water into his mouth. "I used my jacket for the back part, tied off one of the bags to the top part and have dragged your heavy, unconscious ass for what must be two miles now. Although…" Sam paused and looked around him, almost as if he were searching for a diversion.

"Although...?" Dean prompted.

"It's not the best travois ever made. You've slipped off twice."

"You mean you almost left me behind."

"No!" defended Sam. "I said you slipped off."

Sam packed the water away in their one remaining bag and walked to the front of the travois, lifting carefully he continued their slow journey to safety.

Dean frowned up at him.

"Why can I see you?"

"Huh?" Sam tried for innocent ignorance.

"Dude, you're facing me. Why?"

"Well, see, you slipped off so many times that I had to lower the travois to stop you from slipping off again. Plus I decided it was best to keep an eye on you."

"Ok, but why are you all stooped?"

"Like I said, it's not the best travois ever made and it was too high when I was walking forward."

"Dude, you suck" Dean said before breaking into a coughing fit. Sam stopped and lowered him to the ground until the attack passed. Once he was sure Dean had himself under control, Sam continued their escape, checking behind him every few steps to make sure he didn't run into a tree or off a ledge.

"This is such a drag."

"Dean!" groaned Sam.

"At least you managed to pull today." Dean grinned groggily up at his brother.

"Dude, one more word and I'm leaving your ass here."

"No you aren't."

"No. I'm not," said Sam quietly.

They continued that way until Sam's legs burned in conjunction with his arms and his back screamed for a reprieve. He figured they were now a safe distance from the grave and close enough to try his phone again. Dean had long since fallen into a fitful sleep, his fever causing droplets of sweat to run down his face and collect in the hollow of his neck. Sam's panic had increased tenfold when his brother's breathing had become rapid and shallow, the injuries and infection not helping with the shock that wanted to claim the victim for it's own.

"Please work. Please work." Sam continued his mantra as he held the phone high, tears of relief escaping his defences as one bar registered.

He dialled.

He waited.

When the call was answered, he allowed the rest of his tears to fall.

TBC

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My fav line from the premiere : WHATS IN THE BOX?

Whats yours?


	7. Chapter 7

You guys are awesome! If i could send you Dean and Sam as a gift i would (but they're kinda busy washing my car at the moment ...shirtless)

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Dean felt relaxed. No, scratch that, he felt better than relaxed. He felt high. Which could mean one of two things. Either he was currently riding a wave of post coital bliss, (and oh how he wished this were the case), or he was high as a kite on the good stuff thanks to a veritable list of injuries that would no doubt send Sam into queen mother hen mode.

Again, he was hoping for the post coital bliss. Involving some gorgeous chick on a mission to wear him out.

He tried to move but found his limbs too heavy. He heard Sam's voice in the distance. Knowing his brother was safe he allowed his mind to drift as he fell into a deep sleep.

Sam listened to the doctor carefully. He nodded where appropriate and tried to look innocent as he was chastised for exhausting himself by watching over Dean.

When help had finally found them in the forest, Sam had allowed the exhaustion that had been gradually running through his blood stream to send him into a relieved oblivion. As the paramedics had loaded his unconscious brother into the ambulance, Sam's legs had given way and he'd crumpled to a heap on the ground.

He'd come to only to be blinded by a bright light being shone in each eye. The ER doctor, concerned he had a concussion, but so thankful the young man in his care had decided to wake up finally.

"It's ok, Sam, just relax. I'm Doctor Wells. You're in the hospital. Seems you and your brother had quite the nature hike." The doctor smiled good naturedly.

Sam squinted up at the man until he came into focus. He couldn't have been much older than Dean, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. The doctor's kind face helped ease Sam's anxiety until the thought of his brother sent his blood pressure sky high.

"Dean!" Sam attempted to sit up, only to be assaulted by stars dancing across his vision. A gentle hand pushed him back down.

"He's fine, Sam."

"How'd you know my name?" asked Sam from behind the arm he had draped over his eyes.

"Your brother told me. He was awake when they brought you in. Has himself quite an infection and a whole list of injuries, but his main concern was you. He told us you had a seizure. That you hit your head when you fell. Is that right?"

Sam nodded as the relief that Dean was awake washed over him.

"I fell…" he paused, wondering what story Dean had given.

"Fell off the edge of a cliff" supplied the Doctor.

"Yeah , that was it."

"Listen man" the doctor sat on the edge of the bed, "these aren't the kind of woods where inexperienced hikers can go be one with nature. You're real lucky that you managed to get close enough to town to call for help. A lot of people haven't been so lucky."

Sam let out a sigh as he nodded. "Doc? How's my brother? Can I see him?"

"He's gonna be ok. He's in surgery at the moment."

"What? Why?" Sam struggled to sit up again, this time managing the task with the help of the young doctor.

"The bone in his leg broke skin. You set it well, really well actually, but his leg needs a bit more help to set properly so they're putting in pins to keep the bone in place. He's in good hands. The operation shouldn't take long so you'll be able to see him soon."

Sam nodded, suddenly aware of how tired he was he fought the urge to close his eyes.

"Sam?"

Sam realised the doctor must have been trying to get his attention for a while now judging by the concern across his features.

"Yeah?"

"Sam are you feeling tired?"

"Yeah."

"Headache?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, hold still for me." Sam kept as still as he could as the light shone in his eyes again.

"I want to send you for a CT scan. We're gonna keep you overnight as well."

"CT?"

"Just to make sure there's nothing untoward going on in you noggin."

Sam smiled at that.

"It's probably the blow to your head that caused the seizure but it's best to be sure. Ok?"

_That and the slight possession_, thought Sam.

"Ok. When can I see Dean?"

"You're as bad as your brother, you know that? We'll put you both in the same room so don't worry, you'll see him soon."

"What do you mean 'as bad as him'?"

"All that guy kept saying was that we had to make sure you were ok. You were all that mattered. He was almost hysterical and, at one point, the nurse was about to sedate him. He kept on saying that if you weren't ok then it was all for nothing. You know what he meant by that?"

Sam shook his head and swallowed convulsively. The doctor patted his knee and left to make arrangements for the scan. Sam's mind began to wander back to Dean's voice, lying at the bottom of that grave. Listening to those words and knowing that his brother's worst fear had been realised. What had it been like for Dean, holding Sam's dead body in his arms? Dean didn't regret a thing about making the deal. Would do it all over if he had to. That love almost knocked Sam over and ran him threw. He felt guilt on top of guilt for having a brother that would go to such lengths for him. Over and over in his mind, Sam had tried to put himself in that very same position, and over and over his mind had refused to picture the image of loosing Dean. They had always said they would do anything for each other, would die for each other, and now Dean was going to prove that point.

Sam, however, had other ideas. It was his turn to save his brother.

Dean treasured every moment. When Sam had heard his brother say that it had taken all his effort to not cry and latch onto Dean. Sam was so aware that every joke they shared and every time he laughed or smiled Dean would look at him a moment longer than necessary. Would allow the moment to linger as he fought to ingrain every second into his brain. Sam had been doing the same, but he would never want Dean to know that. He didn't want his brother to give up any more than he had done. Dean wasn't fighting. Didn't seem to want to help Sam or Bobby find a way out of this thing. He'd even shouted at Ellen when she'd tried to get him to follow up on a few leads regarding deals.

Dean was dying already; his last breath lasting a year.

A plump male nurse pulled the curtain aside and clapped his hands together startling Sam from his reverie.

"Hear you're scheduled for a CT scan Mr Sixx. Well, I'm here to escort you. Take you upstairs and wheel you all the way. Never had one of those myself though, wanted to. I asked a couple of times and they said no. Said I had to get myself a head injury before they let me in there. Apparently you don't get to play with the equipment even when you're a staff member. That's a privilege for patients only."

"Lucky me." mumbled Sam as he made a mental note of which insurance card to use. Trust Dean to pick that one. He realised the nurse was still talking. This guy was either gonna make his headache worse, or give him an excuse to let go of some of his tension by smacking the plump smug grin from his face.

Sam had been given the all clear and settled into a room on the third floor. His headache had tripled by the time he was wheeled into the room. The male nurse, who's name he now knew as Marcus, had talked a mile-a-minute all the way to the scan and back down to the room. Even when Sam had politely mentioned he had one hell of a headache, Marcus had taken it upon himself to regale Sam with stories of the headaches he used to get.

Great. Dean was somewhere floating in oblivion on the good drugs while Sam was stuck with the boonies version of Rainman.

Typical.

He'd clenched his fist and was getting ready to smack the twit in the face when another nurse had walked into the room and pushed Marcus out of the way, allowing Sam to rein in his inner Dean. Great, now he was channelling his brother.

"Hey, I'm Heather and I'll be your nurse while you're here. Just so you know your brother is in recovery and is doing fine. He'll be joining you soon."

Sam smiled gratefully at the woman. She helped him up and into the bed, setting up an IV and pulling the covers up to his shoulders. Her soft brown hair, pulled back in a pony tail, fell forward across her left shoulder, tickling Sam's arm as she fussed with his pillows. Marcus stood to the side, readying a syringe with what Sam hoped was a nice warm painkiller for his headache.

He still hadn't stopped talking.

Sam caught words like 'brother,' 'wish I had one,' and 'maybe I could visit.' and he knew that sooner or later Marcus was gonna get a face full of Sam's fist courtesy of his inner Dean. He clenched his hand and felt Heather place her warm hand on top of his. He looked up and she threw a wink at him, her blue eyes sparkling with life and care.

"Hey, Sam, how about something for that headache?"

"God, yes please."

As Heather leaned forward to inject the contents of the syringe into the IV port she whispered in Sam's ear "You know we could just knock Marcus out and wait for your headache to disappear into the peace and quiet."

Sam laughed softly.

"What ? What did I miss?" Marcus stepped forward, only to be stopped by Heather's hand to his chest.

"You didn't miss anything. Now for the love of god, will you please leave this poor man in peace."

Marcus frowned.

"Marcus, what did I tell you?"

"Only bug one person at a time" He said in a tone that wouldn't have been out of place on a chastised child.

"Right, and I'm still in the room, so leave. Go annoy someone else. I hear the nurses in the ER _love _having you around."

Marcus seemed to take that as a positive comment and left the room hurriedly.

"Sorry about him." Heather said as she tucked the blanket further around Sam. "He means well and he's great at the clinical side of the job, he's just a really annoying person."

"It's ok, honestly."

"Yeah, right, that's why you looked like you were about to hit him."

Sam smiled as Heather laughed softly.

"You get some sleep."

"My brother..."

"Won't be here for another hour or so. So sleep. I promise to wake you when they bring him in."

"Thanks Heather."

"You're welcome, Sam."

Heather had been true to her word and a few hours later roused Sam from his slumber. Dean was wheeled in, a look of serenity on his features. Carefully, the nurses transferred him to the bed opposite Sam. Heather helped Sam from his bed, carefully maneuvering the tall man and his IV to the chair beside Dean's bed. Once both men were settled, the nurses left. Heather paused at the door, said something about 'only an hour then back to bed' and left. Sam's attention was taken by his brother though. Nothing else mattered.

Dean was pale, a thin sheen of sweat covered his face, yet he looked so peaceful despite the bruises that covered his arms and hands. His right hand was wrapped tightly in a thick white bandage and it rested against his chest. His thumb was barely discernable amongst the bandages. His left leg was encompassed in a thick fabric leg brace with velcro straps keeping it in place. It rested on two very soft looking pillows.

Sam watched the rise and fall of Dean's chest. He felt the anger burning inside him that once again Dean had been the victim of an entity using his family against him. Dean had once again allowed himself to get in the way of the evil.

He'd said that was his job. That his role in life was protecting Sam. Why the hell couldn't he let Sam do the same? Well there was no choice now, not with a busted leg. He could hop away but Sam could walk faster. Dean was going to have to realise that little brothers had as much right to save older brothers.

Sam sat there the rest of the night, unaware of the day light shining through the large window behind him. He held Dean's left hand carefully, mindful of the IV in the back of his hand. Thinking of all the things he could say but not knowing if he could reach Dean. How could he convince his brother that he had to help, had to allow Sam to save him. That he was worth saving.

Sam knew he needed help. He knew who he needed to call.

The decision made, he moved to stand only to find himself face to face with an elderly looking doctor with deep brown eyes and tanned skin. His first thought was that Roy Schneider had decided on a new career in the medical field.

"Doc?"

"Gray" supplied the doctor. He stood in front of the young man, not at all intimidated by his height. "Doctor Gray. I'm in charge of you and your brother."

"In charge?" Sam felt himself shrink beneath the glare and authority in the man's face.

"Yep, in charge. Which means you are in trouble young man."

"I am?" Sam couldn't help but gulp back the fear that he was about to be put over this man's knee and smacked.

"I believe Nurse Benda told you to go back to bed after your brother was brought in."

"Nurse Benda?"

"Heather" said the Doctor patiently. He knew he came across as a hard ass but it was one of the perks of the job; messing with people. He knew what affect he was having on the young man.

"Oh, yeah. Heather. She did."

"But you stayed by your brother's side all night" Doctor Gray didn't flinch, didn't allow his smile to bleed through his stern features. He'd operated on Dean and knew how worried the older brother had been about the younger one. Even as the sedative had taken hold, Dean kept on asking about Sam, wanting to make sure he was ok. He'd made it clear to all the staff that he wanted them to know that Sam was their top priority. Doctor Gray had a younger brother himself so he knew the worry, could recognise the care and love the two men had for each other. Didn't mean he couldn't mess with them though. After all, it was an older siblings prerogative.

Sam shuffled his feet and entertained the idea of using the IV pole to vault over Dean and make a run for it. He looked up and marvelled at the smile that over took Doctor Gray's features. A smile that reached his eyes and beyond. The older man smacked Sam's arm affectionately.

"Don't worry son, I won't tell Heather you disobeyed her. But she'll know though. I swear that woman is psychic. I would have done the same in your shoes. But unless you get yourself back across the room and get some rest I will be allowing Heather to punish you accordingly."

Sam allowed himself to smile, but truth be told, he was still wary as hell about the doctor. There was no doubt he was an older brother to some poor man out there somewhere. Dean was gonna love him. Sam sighed inwardly as he realised he would be stuck in a room with two older brothers and no escape.

"Dare I ask what the punishment would be?"

"Heather only has one form of punishment. And it involves Marcus sitting with the patients until they've learnt their lesson."

Sam moved across the room and hastily climbed into bed. Doctor Gray laughed as he followed him.

"Listen, you'll probably be allowed to leave here later on today ,but you need to rest. You hit your head, had a seizure and then, through what I'm guessing is sheer will, you dragged your brother to safety. That takes a lot out of a guy."

"Ok, I get it" Sam smiled, deciding he liked this guy after all. "But before I give in and sleep. Not due to your threat of course." Doctor Gray pursed his lips and nodded, waiting for Sam to continue. "Please tell me how my brother is."

"He's ok, Sam. He'll be in pain especially seeing as we had to put three pins in his leg to set the bone. He had some numbness in the limb, but once the bone was set and wasn't pressing on a nerve, that began to recede. The pins won't make flying real fun for you in the future."

"Trust me, that won't be a problem."

"His infection is coming under control, his hand needed ten stitches and the thumb has been wrapped to keep it supported. You did a great job getting that back in place, by the way. You ever set a dislocation before?"

"Once or twice." Sam looked away before the doctor could ask anymore questions. He frowned as he realised Dean's fingers were twitching. Doctor Gray followed his gaze.

"He's starting to come around. It'll take a few hours but he should be awake soon. He has multiple bruises, including a dandy on his lower back that will make sitting pretty uncomfortable for a while. Plus, on top of all that, he's got two cracked ribs. You know, just to add to the fun."

Sam smiled sadly, lowering his eyes to his hands in his lap. He raised his head when he felt the doctor tap his knee.

"He's gonna be ok, Sam. He'll be fit and healthy in no time. Good as new."

"Good as new." Sam looked away again as the doctor got up and left the room.

Good as new? What did he know. This was merely a patch on the bigger injury that was slowly draining his brother of life. Sam inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, intent on feigning sleep while the nurses came in to check on Dean. He never meant to actually fall asleep but his body betrayed him and carried him away to the darkness beyond

Dean opened his eyes, frowning around him, not quite comprehending where he was or why he felt so heavy he couldn't move. He listened carefully, trying to piece together all the pieces. By the smell he figured hospital. By the sound of Sam's gentle snores he knew he was safe. He gave in to the firm pull of sleep and relaxed further into the warm bed.

TBC

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Thanks Heather , hope this was ok ;o)

So...do you guys wanna hang out with Marcus...Or Sam and Dean?


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the delay! RL got a little mad and then the site wouldn't let me update!!

But here is finally is!

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Dean licked his lips. He scrunched up his face and moved his head to the side. Licking his lips again he moved his head toward the brush of fingers against his cheek. He didn't feel any pain, instead he felt warm and strangely detached. There was someone sitting close. He knew who it was even before he opened his eyes. Once his vision cleared he gave a lopsided smile at the dimpled smile grinning down at him.

Sam watched as Dean blinked several times. He grinned fully when the deep green gaze fixed onto him. Dean smiled drunkenly, frowned and licked his lips again, then looked up at Sam with hope in his eyes.

Sam used a spoon to bring ice to Dean's mouth and his brother accepted the cool gift gratefully, closing his eyes as the ice melted against his parched tongue. The cold hit a tooth causing his brain to freeze.

Sam tried to feed him more ice but Dean turned his head away, denying Sam access to his mouth.

"Dean?"

"S'cold."

"Of course it's cold you idiot. It's ice." Sam gently pulled Dean's head toward him and coaxed him into taking another spoonful of ice. This time Dean kept the pieces on his tongue and allowed them to slowly melt and trail their way down his throat, soothing the dry burn there.

"Not an idiot" he said before Sam fed him more ice, which he accepted with more enthusiasm than before.

"Yeah, you are" said Sam affectionately.

"Well, look who's awake." Heather smiled as she walked into the room, squeezing Sam's shoulder she leaned over and winked at Dean. "Nice to see those gorgeous eyes of yours, Dean."

Dean smiled lazily up at her and winked back. Sam raised his eyes. Even barely conscious, Dean could garner a favourable reaction from any woman.

"How are you feeling, Dean?"

"M'okay."

"Yeah," Heather said slowly as she walked to the other side of the bed to take his blood pressure. "Sure you are. That's why you're lying in a hospital bed having to be fed ice chips. Picture of health."

Dean frowned and turned to Sam who simply shook his head. "Don't mess with her, dude, she has a twisted sense of punishment."

Heather laughed as she released the pressure cuff from Dean's arm. "So, come on Dean, how are you? How's the pain?"

"What pain?"

"That's good to hear!" laughed Heather. "Any pins and needles in your leg?"

Dean shook his head then suppressed a giggle as Heather adjusted his foot against the pillow, inadvertently brushing the underneath of his big toe. She glanced up and smirked at him as Doctor Gray made his way into the room.

"Well good morning, or should I say _afternoon_, Dean."

"Hey, Doc."

"How are you feeling?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Great, a room full of mother hens and all he wanted to do was sleep. He looked up at the doctor and frowned. There was something…familiar about the man. He glanced at Sam who smiled, waiting for the penny to drop.

"I'm feeling a little crowded to tell you the truth."

"Yeah?" laughed Doctor Gray. "I guess we could get you a bigger room then." he teased.

"I'll be needing a bigger boat" smirked Dean, Sam couldn't suppress his own laugh. Heather shook her head at the puzzled look the doctor gave her. When would that man learn that all the lines thrown at him were from one movie and one movie alone? You'd think he would put two and two together by now.

"Anyway, you've got yourself quite an infection which we're treating with antibiotics. You were pretty dehydrated when you came in, so we're remedying that as we speak."

"Sam?"

"Right here, Dean."

Dean ignored his brother and asked his question to the doctor again. More directly this time.

"How is Sam?"

"I'm right here, Dean." said Sam more forcefully.

"He's fine," Doctor Gray placed a hand on Sam's arm and squeezed. "No sign of any complications or problems."

Dean nodded and sunk further into the warmth of the bed.

"I'll leave you in Heather's capable hands. I'll be back to check on you later, Dean."

Sam nodded his thanks to the doctor as Dean gave him a tired wave goodbye.

"You need to let me know if the pain begins to take over. No need to be stoic about it." said Heather as she moved to take Dean's temperature.

Dean frowned and Sam laughed.

"I mean it, Dean. I know men like you, you'd rather walk a hundred miles with two bloody stumps than admit you were injured."

"No I wouldn't!"

"Of course not, sugar." Heather threw Sam a wink as she finished fussing with Dean's covers. "You'll be with us for a few more days, so don't even entertain the thought of asking when you get to leave. Plus, I think your brother here needs a break from your snoring, so we're releasing him."

"I don't snore!" said Dean indignantly around a yawn. Sam smiled at his brother as Dean's eyes began to fall and his breathing evened out.

"You have a place to stay, Sam?" asked Heather as she adjusted Dean's hand to rest more comfortably against his chest.

"Yeah, we're at the motel not far from here."

"You're free to go, so if you want to sign out, I can give you a lift there later this evening. My shift finishes at six."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. It's no trouble."

"Thank you, for everything."

"Not a problem. Call me if you need anything ok? He'll probably sleep on and off for the rest of the day so if you want to leave earlier just give me a holler and I'll call a cab for you."

"No, that's ok, I'll stay until six."

"Thought you might."

Heather and Sam both laughed as Dean began to snore gently.

xxxxxxxxxx

Crutches.

He hated them.

He was sure they were evil and if Sam let him out of his sight for more than one minute he was gonna salt and burn the evil sons of bitches.

Four days in a hospital bed could drive a guy mental, but being told he couldn't leave until tomorrow was driving him beyond insane. He was bored, damn it, and what had he been given to keep his mind occupied?

Crutches. To practise.

Heather stood across the room from Dean with her hands on her hips. She kept her face stern, but inside she was jelly. Four days of giving the man before her a bed bath had given her the kind of thoughts that got a woman through the day. Her imagination had been on overdrive and her libido had danced in happiness with the first look at the toned body in her care. All in all the frustration of the constant thoughts had kept her distracted when she needed to complete paperwork. Her imagination had even rendered her immune to Marcus's ramblings after the nurses in the ER got their revenge by sending him up to Heather's ward for the week.

Not that her husband had complained. In fact he was looking forward to her shift ending so she could take her frustrations out on him while the kids were at their grandparents.

Dean glared at Heather. Sam silently watched the stand-off from the other side of the bed in a chair by the window. He smirked as he realised this battle of wills wasn't going to go in Dean's favour.

Heather stood defiantly across the room. She lifted one hand and shook the bag clenched in her fingers.

"It has cheese."

Dean licked his lips and balanced himself against the chair by his bed.

"And extra onions."

Sam's smirk from the other side of the bed disappeared.

Dean looked away, trying to ignore the smell of the burger as Heather opened the bag and fanned the aroma to him.

He moved the crutch under his left arm and gripped firm. The other crutch, already under his right arm, was being held very carefully by his fingers. He slowly stood upright, the crutches he'd been given allowing him to stand fully upright, easing the pull on his still healing ribs.

He tucked his right arm close to his body to ensure a firm grip on the crutch, despite his injured hand. Heather had warned him that learning to use them would be somewhat painful, but she insisted that he needed to move around and prove he could manage before they released him.

He took one tentative step forward and grimaced as the ache in his side made itself known. Another step and his thumb cried out as he gripped the crutch too hard. He adjusted his weight, aware that Sam was sitting on the edge of the seat, being held back only by Heather's hand held upright to stem his movements.

Dean swung forward and made slow progress across the room. Sweat broke out over his brow as he turned all his concentration to the promised burger in Heather's grasp.

"That's it, Dean. Slow and careful. You have no need to rush into anything."

_That__'__s what you think_, thought Sam.

Dean paused half way across the room and adjusted his grip on the right crutch.

"Dean?"

"I'm ok, just hurts to hold."

"Just remember not to over do it. Let me come to you now."

"No! I can make it." Dean ignored the eye roll Sam threw his way.

"Ok, but let Sam move his chair over here so you can rest and eat. Ok?"

Sam moved before Heather had even finished speaking. It was frustrating to watch his brother struggle and not be able to help.

Dean made it all the way across the room and allowed Sam to help lower him onto the chair. Heather smiled and took his crutches, dropping the bag into his lap.

"You did really well. But don't push yourself. If the pain is too much, it's a warning. If your ribs pull, its your body's way of telling you to take it easy. So let Sam help if need be. There is nothing wrong with needing a little help ok?"

Dean nodded disinterestedly around a mouthful of burger.

"Sam, I'm gonna leave it up to you," whispered Heather. "If you think he's done enough then take one of the crutches. He won't be able to do much more than frown at you and then he'll have to let you help."

"That's good to know," laughed Sam.

"What?" asked Dean around his burger.

"Nothing," said Heather as she winked at Sam. "Doctor Gray will want to see you later so don't exhaust yourself with those crutches. If you're lucky he might just think about releasing you soon."

TBC

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The ep was awesome! I so want me a little Ben! LOL!

Hoep you enjoyed this chapter, there's still a ways to go though so i hope you all come along for the ride ! x


	9. Chapter 9

Hello friends! So sorry this chapter is late, my brother is newly single and needed some big sis tlc so i've been a little busy! But here it is! Thank you once again for all the amazing reviews and for all those out there who read only xxxx

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Dean waved goodbye to Heather as Sam pulled the car away from the hospital and out onto the main road. Dean was stretched out in the back, leg up on the seat, his back pressed into a soft and thick cushion, given to him by Heather, against the door. He was facing Sam and wishing like hell he could have driven. Passenger up front, that he could do. Passenger in the back , that he couldn't.

"I could sit up front."

"You can't bend your leg now it's in a proper cast. There won't be enough room to stretch out up here." sighed Sam, this not being the first time they'd had this argument

"You could push the seat back."

"I won't be able to reach the peddles."

"Bullshit. You're tall enough to ride behind in a _different _car and still reach the peddles."

"Dean, shut up and rest."

Sam relaxed further into the seat, keeping one hand on the wheel he allowed the other to fall out of the open window and into the air. He had a purpose, a destination. He just hadn't quite told his brother that.

"I'm bored."

At this rate though they wouldn't make it to the place he had in mind.

"We've only been driving for twenty minutes."

"Where we going?"

"You'll see when we get there."

"You have no idea do you?"

"I just thought I'd drive until we reach a place we both wanna hold up."

"When will we get there?"

"When we get there."

Dean sighed and pouted. He spent several seconds playing with a hook nail before glancing back up at Sam.

"We there yet?"

"Dean" growled Sam.

"Bored."

"I swear to god I will pull over and dump your ass on the sidewalk if you carry on."

Dean frowned and glanced out the window.

"Doubt it," he sniggered.

"What?"

"No side walk."

"Shut up."

"We there yet?"

"DEAN!"

They drove for half an hour in relative silence. Sam humming a soft tune and enjoying the open road. There were hardly any cars and he could relax and enjoy the scenery as they passed fields of cattle and corn. Sheep and grass. As Sam drove past a paddock of horses, one decided to gallop at full speed to keep up with the Impala. Sam slowed gently to allow the beautiful beast to keep up until the corner of the field approached and the animal had to back off from the race. He kept his eyes on the animal, jealous of its simple freedom and easy life. Sam breathed in the country air and began humming again, stopping suddenly when he heard a 'pop' inside the car.

Weird.

There it was again.

Pop.

Click.

Pop.

What the hell?

Then it dawned on him.

"Dean will you read a book or something?"

"I'm bored, Sam!"

"Go to sleep then. That's what you're supposed to be doing anyway. Resting, remember?"

"Fine!"

"Fine."

Sam settled back again into the chair and tried to will his mind to relax, tried to force himself to enjoy the scenery and the drive.

"We there yet?"

Sam tried to force his mind to ignore the overwhelming desire to pull over, dump his brother and drive off to Miami.

xxxxxxxxxx

"It's damn good to see you again, Sam!" Bobby pulled the young hunter into an embrace, knocking the cap off his head in the process.

"Hey, Bobby. Sorry to do this to you."

"Nonsense," said Bobby as he released Sam and stooped to retrieve his cap. "I'm glad you called, we were supposed to meet up in Red Lodge so I figured something had gone wrong when you didn't show. I was about to call you when you beat me to the punch."

"Sorry about that."

"Stop apologising. I'd rather have you both here than have to meet you in secret."

"You find anything?"

"Maybe. But first let's get that big lug inside. Ellen is coming over later with some food so you boys have time to rest and clean up."

Bobby walked up to the Impala and glanced affectionately at the young man stretched across the back seat. Dean was fast asleep, his injured hand resting on the floor, Heather's soft cushion behind his back to keep him comfortable and his leg encased in plaster which from the markings on the front, Sam had already drawn on. He smiled as he read the text.

"You do that?" Bobby motioned to the writing.

Sam smirked and opened the door by Dean's feet. He shook the uninjured limb and smiled as his brother looked up at him in confusion.

"We're here."

"Where's here?"

"Hey there, bud." Bobby leaned across the passenger's seat and tapped Dean on his head.

"Hey, Bobby" Dean glanced at Sam in confusion.

"Sam called and told me you were injured so I figured you boys best come stay with me for a bit."

"Don't want to put you out, Bobby."

"Nonsense, no trouble. Ya'll are always welcome here. Now, you gonna get out of that car or am I gonna have to drag you?"

"Nice way to speak to an injured man" groused Dean as he pulled himself forward allowing Bobby to open the door, the older man sliding his hands under the younger man's arms, he slid him backwards and out of the car. Sam helped Dean to find his balance before handing him the crutches.

Bobby led the way toward his house, pointing to different cars he wanted Dean to have a look over. Bobby didn't know anyone but Dean who could tell what was wrong with a car faster than he could. If they managed to rid the world of evil he would hire Dean in a heart beat to work the yard.

"This your plan, genius?" Dean sniped at Sam as they made slow progress toward the house.

"What?" Sam aimed for innocent but knew he fell further toward the smug corner.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?"

"Dean, this is the best place for you to get better."

"And for you and Bobby to tag team me with whatever hair-brained idea you come up for getting me out of the deal."

"That's not why we're here."

"Really?" Dean's tone turned harsh as he moved forward, almost losing his footing in his anger. Sam steadied him with a hand to his arm before Dean shook off the help.

"Dean, that's not what this is about." Dean glared at his younger brother and Sam shifted under the scrutiny. "Ok, well its not _entirely _what this is about."

"Then what is it about, Sam?"

"I think you need a break. _We _need a break. All we've done is hunt and all you've done is avoid. I need a break, Dean." Sam held his breath, hoping his almost-lie would take and Dean would give in, just once.

"You need a break, Sam?"

And there it was, Sam knew that playing that card would have an effect on his brother.

"I do, and I know you do. So please."

"Fine."

Dean shuffled through the door Bobby held open, oblivious to the look that passed from Bobby to Sam.

"Thanks, Bobby" Sam said as he entered the house.

"It's gonna be a long few weeks, Sam."

"You have no idea."

TBC

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Did i take them to where you thought i would? Ya know, i could easily be a Bobby girl! (actually, i think i am!)


	10. Chapter 10

You guys have been awesome but this story is almost at its last chapter, one more to go after this. I'd love it to go on forever but when a story is done it kicks me in the butt and walks away into the sunset!

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The first week at Bobby's revolved entirely around Dean avoiding everyone he could. He succeeded for the first couple of hours, after that though his time was taken in a cat and mouse game with his well-meaning family and friends. Sam, Bobby and Ellen each took turns, stalking him around the house and junk yard.

With every step out toward the farthest piece of junk, Dean cursed his broken leg, cursed his injured hand, cursed his ribs, his choices, his life and his luck. So what if he wanted to save his brother? So what if he wanted to have a good time before his hour glass ran empty and destiny came calling? So what if he'd sacrificed himself for his brother? He'd do it again without question, regardless of any possible outcome.

And so what if he hadn't told Sam there was no way out of the deal that wouldn't result in the death of one or both brothers?

So friggin' what?

Dean swung himself farther from the house, determined to get as far away from the watchful eyes tracking his every movement . The first week at Bobby's had been tough enough, but then Sam suddenly started having nightmares. Not those terror-inducing-vision-giving-migraines he had before. No, these were different. These involved something to do with Samantha; something to do with what happened while Dean was having his little nap at the bottom of the grave.

At first they had been mild. He'd been woken by movement coming from Sam's bed, an arm lashing out, a soft whimper and a weak cry of 'No!'. The following nights saw the dream building in intensity. So much so that Dean had leapt out of bed as fast as he could the night before in order to save his brother from the clutches of the nightmare that was tearing him apart.

Dean perched himself the edge of Sam's bed and shook his sibling gently at first, but then with more force when he failed to awaken. Sam shot upright, his eyes wide as he searched around the room for anything to indicate where he was. The nightmare was so real and vivid that he could taste the death of Samantha on his lips. He could feel her within him trying to break free, trying to run from the power that had built within him and consumed her spirit and engulfed her into nothingness.

He remembered Samantha dying.

Sam grabbed a fist full of Dean's shirt, pulling his injured brother closer . Dean braced himself against the bed as he felt his balance slipping against the sudden movement. Pain jarred through his leg as his foot caught on the floor before he slipped. The look in Sam's eyes terrified him, shook him to his very core. For a moment he didn't know who's eyes he was looking into, having never seen such intensity within the depths of his little brother's gaze.

"Sam?"

"DON'T DIE!"

"Whoa! Sam. Hey, its ok. I'm right here. We're ok. See?"

Sam looked around the room again, his panic lessening in intensity as he realised where he was. They weren't in the forest. They were at Bobby's. They weren't in the grave. They were in their room. They were safe. Dean was alive.

And Sam remembered.

"I killed her." he whispered between trembling lips.

"Killed who?" asked Dean as he tried to reposition himself further on the bed and closer to Sam. He sat facing him with a hand on his brother's shaking knee.

"Samantha."

"You remember?"

"There was an energy, something inside me that kept growing. The less control I had over my body the stronger the energy became. I felt her beg and claw and try to escape but I held tight and I felt her disintegrate. I felt her die. I killed her."

"You sure that's what happened, Sam?" Dean asked carefully, fear deep within his belly. The Yellow Eyed Demon's words echoing within his head. _Are you sure what you brought back is 100 percent, Sam?_

"I saw you fall." Sam's gaze drifted around the room, but Dean knew he saw beyond the walls, beyond the familiar, and was back at the gravesite. "You fell and I thought you were dead. She wouldn't leave me. She used me to hurt you. They always use me to hurt you."

"Who are 'they' ?"

"Spirits. Demons. I'm always used against you, yet you never fight back." Sam looked at his older brother for the first time since awakening. Looked at him with such force that Dean had to hold onto the bed to avoid slipping off. "You never fight back. Why? You should have hit me."

"It wasn't you, Sam." Dean whispered.

"Doesn't matter. You should have fought back. If I had been used to open the gates to hell instead of Jake would you have killed me then?"

Dean avoided his brother's gaze and played with a frayed corner of Sam's blanket.

"Why don't you fight now? You only have months left, Dean. Not a year. _Months. _Time is wasting and you won't even fight for your own life."

"It was the deal I made Sam. For you."

"I know, and I love you for that. But I also hate your decision."

Dean looked up, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt.

"You hate me? Don't do that, don't you dare do that. I did what I did because I love you. Its my job to keep you safe. Keep you alive."

"I didn't say I hated you. I said I hate what you did. I can't live without you, man."

"Yes. You can. You have to."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why, Dean? Why do you get to decide who lives without who? That wasn't your choice to make."

"What was I supposed to do, Sam? I held you in my arms, I felt you take your last breath and no matter how hard I held on my world still ended."

"Remember what that felt like? Remember? That's what I'm gonna feel a few months from now unless you help me."

"That's not fair."

"Neither is the position you've put me in, Dean."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm still holding you to your promise."

"What? What promise?" Dean pulled away, needing distance from his brother as he felt the tension of the anger in the air between them.

"If I go dark side, you kill me."

"We killed the demon, Sam! You're not going to go _dark side_."

Sam sat forward with purpose and conviction, solidly holding Dean's gaze.

"What happened on that hill by the grave wasn't normal. I killed that spirit from inside me. Now tell me, is that normal?"

"Our lives ain't normal, Sam."

"What happened wasn't normal and wasn't right. I feel different, Dean. Something's changed. Just because we killed one demon doesn't mean that there aren't others out there working for the same cause and possessing the same power. The yellow eyed demon might have been the only one we were aware of, but that doesn't mean that this is over."

"You haven't had any visions. This is over, Sam."

"What if it isn't? What if I am changing? What if I DO change. I'm holding you to your promise."

"NO!" Dean stood suddenly and rocked slightly before he found his footing and limped away from Sam. He used the pain radiating from his injured limb and sore ribs to ground himself, to fuel his anger and to camouflage his panic. "I didn't bring you back to kill you. We're not talking about this anymore."

"We have to."

"Says who?"

"I do."

Dean grabbed his crutches and swung himself from the room, slamming the door behind him. Sam rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew he couldn't follow. There was no getting through to Dean when he was pissed off and scared. He'd wait until morning to talk to him in the cold light of day. He would make his brother see his job wasn't done, he still had to look out for Sam. It scared the younger hunter to think that, without Dean he might become what he was destined to be. There were others out there. He knew it. Others from his generation and from different generations. That many soldiers meant more than one commander.

TBC

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Come on guys, give me some lurve!


	11. Chapter 11

Wow! What an ep!! This season just keeps on getting better and better! Poor Sam! Jared did such a great job with the pout! And Dean with the multiple gun porn! I was in heaven!! Hope you guys enjoyed it too!

Sad to say this is the end of this fic, i hope you've enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing x

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Dean leant back against an old red mustang and turned his face toward the sky, breathing in deep and savouring the silence that surrounded him. Bobby's junk yard was big enough to easily find a secluded spot and disappear for a while. When they were younger, the brothers were always getting lost, leaving Bobby and John to find the wayward boys before they began to panic and cry. As they grew older, the brothers learned that the junk yard had a pattern. There was organisation amongst the chaos. Once you knew the paths, you knew how to get lost yet always manage to find your way back.

Dean took a deep breath and tried to drown out Sam's words from the previous night. He tried to ignore the nagging feeling that Sam was right. Something as big and as nasty as the demon didn't work alone. There would be others; generals and lieutenants, leaders and soldiers. All working for the same cause. Just because you cut off the head, doesn't mean the body can't fight.

So what if Sam wasn't Sam? So what if his brother had another freaky shining power that they could use as a weapon against all the evil sons-of-bitches out there in the world that needed killing?

So friggin what?

Dean wasn't scared, he wasn't ready to knock his brother out and run to the furthest point of the world to hide. Even if that did mean getting on a damn plane. Nope, not scared. Not him.

So what that Sam couldn't live without him? That Sam was going to have to hold his brothers lifeless body close to his own as the body fell lax and the skin turned cold. So what that Sam was going to experience the ultimate loss of the one person who was his constant.

Dean closed his eyes as he remembered the absolute shocking devastation of the realisation that Sam was dead. His body sagged under the weight of the memory and he slowly lowered himself to the ground.

He swore to protect Sam from anything and everything that could hurt him. Yet Dean was going to put him through the worse pain imaginable. It was still the right choice to make. Out of every eventuality he could imagine and all the pain he could endure, Dean knew that losing Sam was the worst of a heap of bad situations and the one that there was no way he could go through again. There was no way. His heart cried out as the pain of the memory slammed into his chest with each broken beat. Yes, he was going to put Sam through the same pain. There was no way around it. He was sorry, he was ashamed of the weakness, but there was no way he could watch his brother die and carry on with his life.

Tears of frustration, anger and fear welled within the green depths as Dean roughly brushed aside the wetness that escaped to run down his cheeks.

He was terrified of going to hell, there was no denying that. But the alternative? So much worse than anything he would ever be able to endure.

Sam had to live.

He was gonna kill him, though, if those approaching footsteps belonged to the sasquatch he called brother.

Dean brushed the tears from his eyes in a futile attempt to remove all evidence of his little freak out. If the hunter had known about the red puffy rings around his eyes and the fact his face had lost all colour, he would have turned away from Sam as the younger man rounded the corner and looked down at him with concern.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Dean…"

"Nothing to talk about, Sam."

Sam turned away, trying to gather his thoughts and formulate the words to say what he needed his brother to hear. He smiled as he realised the spot Dean had chosen to hide away from him.

"Hey, do you realise where we are?"

Dean looked up curiously before allowing his eyes to take in his surroundings. He smiled, glancing up at Sam as he tried to shield his eyes from the sun shining behind his brother.

"Huh…I didn't realise it until just now."

"You remember that night?" Sam moved to sit down next to Dean, their backs against the front of the old mustang.

"Remember it? We were lost for the whole night. Dad and Bobby never thought we'd make it this far out into the yard so they were checking closer to the house."

" I was what? Seven? Eight?"

"Eight and a half."

Sam turned his face to smile down at Dean.

"How'd you remember this stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"The age I was when certain things happened."

"Dunno, just do."

"It's a good thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The brothers sat in amiable silence, enjoying the slow track of the sun across the bright blue sky. The only sound a distant call of birds as they flew to a new destination for the change in seasons. A new world for them to grow and raise a family in the safety and warmth of a destination they would arrive at unharmed, unhindered and without question. Their hopes fulfilled the moment the new land came into focus from high above the ground. Amongst friends and family the birds would land, to begin a new life. The cycle never ending and passed down through the generations that would carry on their lives.

They lived forever through the gift of new life. They didn't have to cut corners and make deals just to fulfil one hope, one dream.

"Dean, we gotta talk."

"No we don't, Sam" came the tired reply.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen."

When there was no reply, Sam took a deep breath and continued.

"With what happened with Jake and Samantha…Dean, I need you to keep an eye on me. Keep looking out for me just like you always have. For longer than a year man. I need you to carry on your job. You don't get to quit .You don't get to give up."

"Jake deserved killing. He made a deal with that yellow eyed son-of-a-bitch. Samantha though? I'm not so sure what happened is what you think happened."

"What do you mean?"

"That lawyer guy they found died from a head injury. Could be he had a seizure and that's what killed him. I think the spirit leaving the body caused that reaction. When Samantha found out that Jack was gone for good I think she left to be with him. Nothing you did Sam, just the way it is."

"Maybe." said Sam, unconvinced but willing to allow his brother the safety of the alternative.

"Or, if you did kill her." Dean paused for dramatic effect, regarding his brother with a serious frown. "It means we have ourselves a very own ghost trap, Dr Spengler."

"Means we can charge for services."

"We'd have to get you patented."

"Oh really?!" laughed Sam, relaxing further against the car and his brother's shoulder.

"Listen Sam, I don't want you trying to find a way out of this deal. You need to leave it alone."

"Why are you so against being saved?"

"I'm not against being saved, Sam. There's more to it than that."

"What then? What is it, man? You've been keeping something from me the whole time and now is the time to spill it. Please. I'm begging you."

Dean looked down at the dirt and tried to will himself away from the conversation. He was barely aware of the words leaving his lips.

"If I try to get out of this deal, you die."

Sam did a double take, turning slightly in the dirt to face his brother.

"Say again."

"If I try to get out of the deal, you die. It was one of the conditions. I get one year, but if I worm or weasel my way out, then you die. Again."

Sam sat in silence while Dean held his breath against the tirade he was sure was coming. Held his breath against the anger and venom that would be directed his way.

"Doesn't matter" Sam said matter-of-factly as he turned back in the dirt to his original position, against the car, shoulder to shoulder with his brother. His family.

"What?" Dean's voice cracked on the word as he held the relief to his brother's reaction at bay.

"Doesn't matter, Dean. It actually works out better. We find a way out, or we die. We do it together."

"Not _we_, Sam. You."

"We're in this together, Dean. You proved that already. We both live, or we both die. End of story."

"You can't do that, Sam. You gotta live, you gotta go back to school and make a life for yourself. Be safe and well and don't hunt anymore. Its not worth it."

"No, Dean. I'm gonna save you or we'll both die. Its that simple. You can't protect me from the demon or the deal or you dying. Its our mess man. Ours to deal with _together_."

"You don't know what its like to lose a brother, Sam."

"I don't? What about when you were electrocuted?"

"That wasn't the same."

"Wasn't far off. Your heart stopped. You died outside that house. Then to have you brought back by the EMT's only to be told you had a month, tops, to live. How do you think I felt? I went to every length possible to save you. And you know what? Even if I had known what Roy Le Grange wasn't aware of, even if I had known what his wife was doing, I'd have still taken you there, man."

"Sam…"

"No, Dean. Listen. I will do anything for you. Just because you made a promise when you were four doesn't mean you get to be the only one who protects. You are my responsibility as much as I am yours. We're in this together. Until the end. No matter what end meets us."

"All I ever wanted was for you to have a normal life, Sam. I still want that."

"You're an idiot."

"What?"

"You're an idiot. Normal, to me, is being by your side. I know that now. That's what family is; what normal is. You're stuck with me and I'm stuck with you."

Sam gazed into Dean's green depths and tried to will his eyes to not tear up the way his older brother's were.

Dean smacked his shoulder and turned away.

"What was that for?"

"You're such a girl, Sam."

"So you'll let me help, you'll work with us on this?"

"Only if it keeps you from wearing pink dresses and having a sex change."

"I'm not a girl, Dean."

"I think if you had your way you would be, but Sam? The credit cards won't cover an operation like that."

"So, that's a yes then?"

"To the sex change?"

"To working together."

"It's a yes."

"Good."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you have to write _that _on my leg?"

Sam looked down at the cast on his brother's leg and couldn't help but giggle at the pink and purple writing against the stark white plaster.

"Seemed appropriate."

"You know I'm gonna kick your ass for that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Friggin 'Child of Flower Power'! Of all the things to write, Sam."

"You like the flower though, right?"

"Yeah, gotta admit you draw a good flower, dude."

Both brothers jumped as Bobby rounded the corner and approached them with the look of a very hungry and pissed off grizzly.

"So there the bloody hell you are! I've been looking for you two knuckleheads for over an hour now."

"Well, we've been here the whole time" smiled Dean at his old friend.

"Oh yeah, been here in your little hiding hole like the children you are!"

"Bobby, you mad at us?" asked Sam.

"No." The older hunter turned away and tried to hide his relief . "Ellen's here, she has some information you guys need to hear."

"About what?" Dean asked as Sam helped him up from the ground.

"Your deal," Bobby said carefully. While keeping an eye on Dean's reaction, he nodded to Sam, the younger man smiled back , a smile so full of hope and promise that it made Bobby's heart swell.

"What did you find?" Dean asked in a small voice.

"Ellen found a guy, not far from here. He'd made a deal with a demon to bring someone back from the dead."

"So? What's so special about that?" asked Sam as he helped Dean navigate the debris littering the yard. It was a wonder his brother had made it all the way out there without falling. He just hoped Dean put as much determination into finding a way out of the deal as he did to getting away from those who loved him.

"This guy made his deal a while ago and he's still alive."

"Maybe he got more time than everyone else" said Dean.

"Ten years."

"Like I said, he got more time."

Bobby ignored the snark. Instead he turned to fully face both brother's.

"He made the deal fifteen years ago."

Neither man moved. Neither spoke. Neither dared breathe for fear of waking up from the dream they were sure they were stuck in.

"What?" whispered Sam.

"Fifteen years ago, Emmet Carlson made a deal to bring his sister back from the dead. Fifteen years later they are both still very much alive."

"You're sure?"

Bobby looked at the men before him and let a smile spread slowly across his rugged features.

"You wanna go meet them?"

The brothers nodded in unison and continued the walk back to the house, back to Ellen, and back to hope that brought with it the realisation that not everything was cut and dry. Black and white. There were colours and light amongst the dark and the pain. There was hope amongst the loss.

And there might just be a way through to the other side.

_There__'__s a crack in the clouds, but only for a moment now_

_Like an owl looking out, the blue sky spies the roads we will go down._

_I wonder what they hope for us? I hold my family to my breast,_

_I feel the worst and hope the best will come to see us blessed._

_- Chris Cornell_

Fin.

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I want to thank you all once again for all your amazing reviews and support. I see many names reappear but with every fic there's always a few new ones and i love that you all seek out these journeys to join me on. To everyone who reads only, i hope you drop me a line to let me know what you think. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this xxx It means so much.

Fo those heading to Chicago i'll see you there!

Until next time...take care.


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